


Wish You Were Here

by Dizzojay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Family, Fun, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzojay/pseuds/Dizzojay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am delighted to present a merry little tale of our favourite family of three enjoying an entirely new experience. Well, mostly enjoying, anyway ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bobby shifted uncomfortably, stifling a miserable yawn as he settled back into the couch with a groan. He was so bored, he could almost hear his brain liquefying.

It had been over three weeks now, and although he was moving around a little more and things were gradually improving (way too freakin' gradually for his liking) he was still a long way south of normal.

The novelty of his unexpected layoff had worn thin long ago. Putting his back out on that ghoul job last month had really screwed his life big time; not only was he out of the hunt for the foreseeable future, but it meant he was also completely incapable of undertaking his lawful employment as well.

Leaning into car engines or grovelling around underneath them was a complete no-no as far as that sonofabitch L5 vertebrae was concerned.

This enforced rest, as well as being annoying was also goddamned depressing; a stark reminder that Bobby was no longer a young man; nor was he getting any younger.

Bobby wasn't a vain man at all. He was perfectly aware he was no Adonis, but he liked to pride himself on his physical condition. How many guys in their sixties were ox-strong enough to dig a grave and sprightly enough to be able to climb in and out of it to examine it's occupant?

Deep in the back of his mind, a small part of him knew those days of Bobby Singer's working life were about to become increasingly numbered.

And it sucked.

He sighed. He'd been desperate to remain of value to someone, anyone; but even his well-meant offer of carrying out research for fellow hunters during his period of inactivity had had to fall by the wayside. Sitting for hours, bending over heavy books? Oh-no. Friggin' bastard pain-in-the-ass – literally – L5 was having none of it.

Balls to L5!

xxxxx

There were only so many crosswords and sudoku puzzles a man could do before he lost the will to live.

Frickin' crosswords, and extra frickin' sudoku; Bobby had never been much of a numbers man.

Then there was daytime TV.

Unfortunately.

Bobby looked up from his irritable musings towards the TV set and glimpsed some creepily perma-tanned gameshow host in a blue sequinned jacket sporting a grin so unnaturally white he looked like he'd brushed that morning with weapons-grade Plutonium.

Frickin' daytime TV.

xxxxx

In fact the only bright light in the steaming dunghill that was Bobby's damned achey-breaky, creaking, falling-apart life at the moment was the Winchester brothers.

Whenever they had been physically able to, they had swung by to check on him. "Just 'dropped' by" Dean had breezily stated last time. "Dropped by?" Lexington, Kentucky to Sioux Falls, South Dakota? Only in the Winchesters' crazy, whacked-up world could that be a 'drop by'.

When they weren't physically able to be there, they still made sure Bobby knew he was foremost in their thoughts. A daily phone call, a cheeky email; and then there was the time a weeks' worth of groceries magically turned up on his doorstep courtesy of Sam and his trusty laptop. Ordering groceries from afar: a Winchester insurance policy to make sure Bobby didn't try anything so reckless as going out to the store and doing his own shopping.

Those boys were stifling and smothering him. It was patently clear they didn't trust him in the slightest not to go off and do something stupid that might jeopardise his recovery, and it pissed him off completely.

And he loved them for it.

xxxxx

It was about 4 pm and the late summer sun was beginning it's slow descent toward the horizon when Bobby's phone rang.

Hunched over the kitchen counter, pouring a coffee, Bobby almost missed the call.

These days he had a turning circle like a damned supertanker, and by the time he'd shuffled round to reach the bank of phones along his wall and scanned the handsets to check whether he was supposed to be the FBI, the CIA, the CDC, or just plain old Bobby Singer, wrecked back and all, he was surprised the caller had bothered to stay on the line long enough for him to answer.

He picked up the phone; "yeah?" he snorted gruffly.

"Mr Robert Singer of Singer Salvage?" A bright young woman sing-songed his name.

"Who's askin'?" he asked wearily, reaching behind him for a chair.

"My name's Leanne," the smiley young voice informed him; "I'm calling from the marketing department of Fender Bender magazine."

Puzzled, Bobby felt somehow reassured by the cheerful voice; "uh, yeah, Singer here;" he confirmed curiously, dropping heavily into the chair.

"Well, I have some very good news for you Mr Singer," Leanne gushed airily.

Bobby sat in his kitchen listening to his cheerful caller's happy voice imparting her 'very good news'. As the conversation progressed, his face slowly arranged itself into an expression of delighted disbelief.

Eventually he found his tongue; "you're shittin' me?" he stammered.

xxxxx

A thousand miles and a time zone away, the Winchester brothers were just settling themselves into another dull motel room in a dull town after a dull hunt; a bog-standard poltergeist job which required minimal research and even less effort to dispatch a spirit so apparently monolithically stupid it's idea of distracting it's assailants was to throw their bag of salt into it's grave.

Dean was in the shower when the call came, having left Sam in charge of the evening's important tasks of ordering pizza, making the coffee and finding something on the room's archaic TV set that was worth watching; that is to say, something that came under the general headings of sport, gratuitous violence, or hot women and very little clothing.

Seeing who the caller was, Sam picked up with a smile, "hey, how ya doin' Bobb …"

He was cut off by the older man's breathless voice as he lowered himself down onto Dean's bed, his jaw dropping slackly into an astounded gape.

"you're shittin' me …" he gasped.

xxxxx

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every silver lining has a cloud in the Winchesters' world!

Dean eventually emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam, damp towel hung round his neck and stood in the doorway, T shirt hoisted halfway up his chest, fiddling irritably with the stiff elastic around the waist of his new sweatpants.

As the pine and lemongrass scented miasma gradually cleared, he noticed with some dismay the lifeless TV set together with the kettle which showed absolutely no signs of having boiled anytime recently. His eyes narrowed as he rearranged himself; "hey Sasquatch, what the hell ya been doin' out here, tell me you at least managed to order the piz…"

His voice tailed off when he noticed Sam sitting on the end of his bed, clutching his phone in a white-knuckled grip and staring at the wall in what could only be described as a state of shock.

Breath hitching in concern, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck; "dude; everything okay?" His voice softened as he spoke.

Sam looked up as if he hadn't noticed anyone was there, the expression on his face unreadable; "uh, yeah," he muttered vacantly; face breaking into a shaky smile; "yeah, I'm good."

Dean cocked his head, and moved tentatively toward his brother; "yeah, 'cos you totally look it. You're shakin' like a friggin' leaf!"

Sam looked up as Dean approached him and smiled; "honestly dude, I'm fine; jus' a bit – um …" he let out a long slow breath as if he was trying to calm himself; "… shocked!"

Dean sat down on the end of the bed next to Sam at a distance expertly calculated to be close enough to offer brotherly moral support but far enough not to be in any way pervy.

He swallowed harshly; "what is it?"

Sam shook his head with a wry smile; "It's Bobby;" he began. Dean immediately bristled; "Bobby? He okay?"

Placing a comforting hand on Dean's forearm, Sam reassured his brother; "yeah, chill man, he's fine. Better'n fine in fact!"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed in exasperation: "Sam," he sighed; "what the hell's goin' on?"

Sam shook his head as if he was emerging from a trance; "sorry dude; uh … you know Bobby's been a bit under the weather recently?"

Dean stared back at his brother from under a single ironically raised eyebrow; "under the weather? Mr Happy? Nah, I'd never have noticed."

Sam sniggered; "well, apparently, when he was in hospital in the first couple of days after he stuffed his back, he was bored an' filled in a word-search puzzle in one of his car scrap dealer's magazines."

"Woah," Dean replied dryly, "he sure knows how to live life on the edge!"

Sam smiled; "well, apparently he does, because he noticed the puzzle was for spme big competition thing that the magazine was runnin', so he mailed it back to the magazine an' then forgot all about it."

Sam noticed that he suddenly had Dean's undivided attention.

"Then yesterday, he got a phone call; he's won the competition. Bobby's won a two-week all-expenses family vacation to Hawaii, five star resort - the works!"

Dean's eyes widened, and he let out a whistle of appreciation.

"That's some freakin' awesome prize," Dean shook his head appreciatively; "Shame Bobby ain't got a family to take!"

A short silence fell between the brothers, as Sam stared at his brother.

"Bobby would dispute that point with you," Sam finally replied, quietly.

Dean stared back at Sam, green eyes unblinking. The penny didn't so much drop as work it's way down slowly; as it did, his mouth moved faintly, the power of speech momentarily leaving him.

"Y-you mean …?" he stuttered breathlessly.

Sam nodded.

Dean pointed mutely to himself, then to Sam; "y'mean you an' me…?"

Sam nodded; his grin stretching wider; "two weeks … Hawaii … five star … all p-paid for …"

""Hawaii?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Hawaii. As in the fiftieth state?" Dean still couldn't quite rationalise what he was hearing.

"Unless you know of another one, dude."

Now it was Dean's turn to look shell-shocked.

"W-when?"

Sam took a deep breath; "any time in the next two months," he continued; "Bobby wants to leave it as late as possible within that time to get his back fixed up as good as he can."

Dean hyperventilated briefly, and nodded in understanding.

"What did you tell him?" he croaked.

Sam hesitated, taking a deep breath; "I said I would get back to him, I wasn't gonna make any decisions without talkin' to you first."

Dean's increasingly wide eyes asked the question; "why? What decision is there to make? Two weeks in paradise, free, gratis and for nothing!"

Sam sighed; "Dean, how do you think we'd have to get to Hawaii?"

Dean's mind processed the question briefly then his shoulders slumped in despair.

"Oh, crap!"

xxxxx

Sam looked at his brother sadly; "that's why I wasn't gonna make a decision without talkin' to you first."

Dean looked utterly crushed; "Ah – well, um … why don' you go with Bo…"

"Forget it;" Sam cut him off immediately. "We go together or not at all."

Dean's head dropped limply onto his chest before he got up and wandered across the room; stopping and leaning heavily against the bathroom doorframe. Sam could see his arm trembling as he leaned against the flaking wood.

"A vacation?" Dean murmured; "a real, honest-to-goodness 'catchin' the rays, swimmin' in the sea, hot chicks in bikinis, sipping weird cocktails with paper umbrellas in them, sand in your shorts' vacation?"

He turned to Sam, as if for confirmation; the look of wide-eyed earnestness taking twenty years off his face.

"Yeah dude, a real vacation with all that stuff;" Sam reassured gently.

Dean turned, and leaned back against the wall. His next words tore Sam's heart clean out of his chest.

"I never had a vacation."

Sam thought back to the many times he and Jess had been able to head off to the California coast for long relaxing weekends on the beach when their school schedules allowed it, and found himself torn up with regret.

He got up and walked across the room to stand next to Dean. He shrugged, feeling utterly helpless.

Dean had to make this decision for himself.

"I wish you would go Sammy, go with Bobby, you'd have a ball."

"No I wouldn't, not without you;" Sam stated bluntly; "I wouldn't have a ball, and it wouldn't matter because I'm not going if you're not."

He didn't have the heart to tell Dean that Bobby had already decided he wasn't going without Dean; the poor guy was under too much pressure already.

"Hey Dean," Sam coaxed gently, "look, no pressure," he lied; "why don't you sleep on it."

Dean looked at the floor for what seemed like forever then shook his head, scraping a hand over his face.

"No need," he replied, standing up straight off the wall and squaring his shoulders; "made my mind up." He turned to look at Sam; "I'm goin'."

The words and the set of the shoulders were brave and defiant; the face and quiver in the voice told a very different story.

xxxxx

Sam's eyes narrowed; "are you sure dude? you're not just doing this for me? I don't want you to put yourself through a ten hour flight just for my sake."

Dean visibly flinched at the words, 'ten hour flight'.

"No … well, yeah .. no, um, not entirely;" he eventually answered, wilting with every syllable.

Sam stood, not taking his eyes from the squirming man in front of him. A soft blush was beginning to colour Dean's face.

"Sam, I'm thirty years old, an' I've never walked along a beach in swimmin' shorts eatin' an ice-cream;" he sighed and looked deep into Sam's sympathetic eyes, "I've never stood on a balcony on a warm night and watched the sun set over the ocean."

Sam felt himself blinking back tears and wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull his brother towards him but held back, knowing Dean wanted understanding, not pity.

"An' besides," Dean added; "that cranky ol' sonofabitch said he wasn't gonna go either if I didn't agree, didn't he?"

Sam, briefly stuttered, trying to shake his head; "Huh … well, kinda, no … well, he … um …"

It was no good, he never could lie to Dean.

"Thought so," Dean smirked; "you ring him back right now Sammy an' you tell him we're goin' to Hawaii with him. Tell him now before my freakin' balls shrivel up an' I change my mind."

Sam hesitated briefly; "sure?" he asked.

"Get your ass on that friggin' phone;" Dean snapped irritably.

Sam nodded, patting Dean on the shoulder and walked back to the bed reaching for his phone, and dialling a familiar number.

xxxxx

"Hey Bobby; book it, we're going."

Xxxxx

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's enjoying preparing for his vacation … mostly.
> 
> I've just written an entire chapter taking place in Wal-Mart; I don't know whether to be proud or worried about that ...

The tinny strains of 'Only Yesterday' echoed quietly around the brothers as they wheeled their cart, complete with squeaky wheel, around Wal-Mart's crowded aisles.

If a shopping cart could tell a story, this one would have screamed … 'we're going on a vacation, and we're as stark crazy as a bucket of frogs about it."

The big, dark blue suitcase with a 'special offer' label stamped all over it, trundling along on tiny black wheels behind Dean was also a bit of a giveaway.

The cart was gradually filling up with cheerfully coloured shirts, beige chinos, cotton three-quarter length pants; or in Sam's case knee length pants; and several pairs of swimming shorts ranging in colour and pattern from tastefully sober plain blue through plaid, sunflowers, star spangled banner and, in a moment of excited madness, Garfield.

Two pairs of green and yellow flip-flops joined the pile, closely followed by two pairs of brown cotton loafers, three Stephen King novels together with the latest Dan Brown offering, a beach ball and three orange towels.

As the Winchesters continued their enthusiastic exploration of Wal-mart's treasures, Dean's head suddenly swivelled and his face lit up with delight.

"Back in a tick," he muttered, and disappeared off down another aisle, returning seconds later with a huge grin and an alarmingly bug-eyed inflatable dolphin under his arm.

He thrust it out towards Sam, green eyes pleading wordlessly, and the grin broadened.

Sam stifled a laugh; for all the weights of responsibility and disillusionment that his brother continuously bore on his weary shoulders, he still had the endearing quality of sometimes being able to see the world with a childlike wonder; "Dude? Really?" Sam shook his head in affectionate resignation, he would defy anyone to say no to that face.

"It looks like it's been smokin' pot or somethin'," he sniggered at the latex dolphin's boggling blue eyes.

"Don' care, I like it!" Dean almost pouted.

"We're gonna have to let it down to get it in the case;" Sam sighed, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Dean's grin wavered. "I know that, smartass. I'm not a friggin' infant!"

Sam rubbed his forehead and tried to ignore the irony of the thirty year old man standing in front of him clutching an inflatable dolphin and announcing that he wasn't an infant.

Dean's enthusiasm was infectious. "Put it in the cart with the rest of the stuff then, Jerk," Sam grinned.

Gleefully placing his dolphin in the cart, Dean slapped Sam's shoulder in thanks and the brothers continued their wanderings.

xxxxx

Eventually they came to the toiletries aisle and began a systematic smash and grab of necessities such as shower gel, shaving foam, disposable razors and toothpaste. A few steps further on and they found themselves at the meds section.

"We'll need plenty of this;" Sam picked up a few bottles of sunscreen, "and this," he added a bottle of after-sun lotion.

A bottle of insect repellent was next to find it's way into the cart, rapidly followed by an antihistamine spray for insect bites.

"D'y reckon we'll need any of this?" Dean grinned as he rattled a box of Imodium tablets.

Sam chuckled; "I sure hope not, but guess we'd better take 'em along."

Into the cart they went.

Then Sam spotted something else.

He was very aware that although their trip had been discussed at length and in depth; Dean, as dizzy with excitement as a five-year-old on Christmas Eve, had barely been able to think or talk about anything else. However, the one aspect of the vacation that had not been discussed at all, not a single word, was the journey there or back.

The silence on that subject had been deafening.

Sam was prepared to remain silent on the subject if that was Dean's preferred way of dealing with something that was, no doubt filling him with dread, but now they had reached a point where the subject had to be broached.

"What about these," Sam asked casually, holding up the pack of Dramamine travel sickness pills.

For the first time Dean's face tightened. "Uh – okay." He grunted economically.

Scanning the shelves, Sam found something else he was looking for. "What about you take one of these for the journey;" he tried to keep his voice light, "might make things a bit easier for you."

Dean looked at the box Sam held in his hand. Sominex sleeping tablets.

His lips tightened into a grimace and he nodded slowly; "okay," his voice was barely a whisper.

Sam was overcome with a need to help his brother and, unable to hold back any longer, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Dude, why don't we take you to a doctor, see if we can't get you some kind of stronger sedative for the flight?"

Dean stared in silence at his brother for a moment, his expression blank.

"No" he answered with a brief shake of the head; "are we done here now?"

The whole mood of the shopping trip had suddenly tilted; Sam's amusement at Dean's infectious enhusiasm and the bug-eyed inflatable dolphin lying upside-down in his cart long since forgotten, replaced by heartbreaking concern for his brother.

"But Dean; why suffer like this when you could take a couple of pills and then be out like a light both ways?" Sam pleaded, "surely, you don't want to spend the whole vacation brooding about the trip home."

Dean turned abruptly, his expression darkening. "I'm not having this conversation in the middle of friggin' Wal-Mart; now lets pay for this crap and get it back to the room so we can get it sorted out an' packed."

Sam stood helplessly watching his brother snatch up the cart and stomp off, squeaky wheel and all, toward the checkout. "don' forget the suitcase;" Dean snorted after him.

Sam sighed as he watched Dean's back recede into the distance; that would be why the subject of the flight hadn't been discussed then.

xxxxx

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally opens up about the 'taboo' subject.

Back in the grey, mildewing confines of their room, the brothers busied themselves sifting through all their purchases, cutting off labels and folding up their new clothes.

Dean had been stewing silently ever since the exchange in the store, and Sam was gradually wilting under the toxic atmosphere.

"Look dude; whatever I said in back there that upset you, I'm sorry 'kay?" He blurted eventually.

With his back still facing Sam, Dean stopped his folding and stood motionless for a moment before turning.

"No, I'm sorry;" he sighed; "I've been tryin' not to get too worked up 'bout the flight but I guess it's not workin'.

Sam's face softened. "It's not too late to back out Dean;" he reassured, "It hasn't cost Bobby any money."

Dean shook his head. "No but we've just spent a fortune on all this;" he gestured expansively across his bed which was buried beneath a jumble of folded clothes, bottles of various shapes and sizes, paperback books and one partly-deflated inflatable dolphin.

Sam gave a small smile; "well, technically it's Mastercard that's spent a fortune on all this, not us," he muttered apologetically.

Dean returned the smile and dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed.

He shook his head; "No Sam, don't let me talk myself out of this trip, please; we all need this vacation, you, me an' Bobby, we all need a break." He hesitated, staring at his feet for a moment before continuing; "an' I want this trip, Sammy, I wan' it so bad it hurts." He looked up at Sam in despair, "I haven't had anything in my life to get this excited about since, like, never, so please, Sam, please don't make it easy for me to talk myself out of this."

Sam hopped up off his bed and cleared a space among the scattered clothes to sit down next to Dean; "OK, so why not, then?" he encouraged; "lets go to the doc tomorrow, and get you a sedative. Then, nothing to worry about; you'll be in happy la la land all the way through the flight."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, did that once before, an' it didn't work out so well."

Sam jolted; "when?"

"Not long after you wen' to Stanford," Dean began; "Dad wen' after a Waheela in Fairbanks, and got us a flight up there."

"He didn't know about my, um, flying 'thing' an' I guess I jus' panicked." Dean hesitated as if the memory was painful to recall. "I didn't want to make a fuss because I would have had to tell Dad why and he would have thought I was bein' a pussy, so I had a doctor give me some Lorazepam an' I guess it kinda worked because I don't remember much about the flight, but then I felt really crap and lethargic and my memory was shot, an' I got dizzy an' stupid for a few days afterward."

"An' cause I wasn't functioning properly, I messed up on the hunt, an' nearly got Dad killed."

Dean was silent for a moment as he processed the difficult memories.

"I nearly got Dad killed Sam, just cause I was too frickin' yellow to get my ass on an airplane. I had to explain what went wrong, which meant comin' clean an' Dad nearly tore me a new one."

Anxious not to interrupt, Sam eventually spoke up; "what did he say?"

Dean took a deep breath; "he told me I needed to man up an' to get out of his sight."

He looked back down at the floor; "it was a long time before he came close to trustin' me again."

Sam clenched his jaw in anger. He knew his father was a good man, despite all their differences, he was a decent, if misguided, man, but sometimes … he closed his eyes and counted to ten.

He'd got as far as seven when Dean continued.

"Anyway, I don't wanna take any of those stupid meds cause if I feel like crap and get all dizzy an' useless, I'll ruin the trip for all of us."

Sam threw caution to the wind and cupped Dean's shoulder in his hand.

"Dean," you shouldn't keep beating yourself up over this; lots of people don't like flying, and that doesn't make them cowards or stupid."

He continued, fishing for the right words; "you don' wanna pay any attention to Dad. You know what he was like when he got pissed about something like that, he was inclined to say the first stupid thing that came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment, and sometimes it was hurtful, but you know he didn't mean it."

"No-one thinks any less of you because you don't like flying …"

"Scared," Dean corrected; "I'm scared of flying."

Sam rolled his eyes; "okay, well I still don't think any less of you because you're scared of flying, Bobby doesn't think any less of you either. No one does."

He wasn't sure if he was getting through to the silent figure next to him; "Dean, I'm scared of clowns. What does that say about me? At least a fear of flying is rational!"

Dean cleared his throat, and seemed to snap back into himself a little; "yeah, well, I did drop you on you head when I was changing your diaper once," he replied across a deep sigh.

Sam grinned; "that says it all!"

A few moments silence passed between the two men before Sam spoke up again; "so are we good?"

"Yeah we're good," Dean smiled and shucked Sam's arm from across his shoulders.

"Anyway," said Sam, scraping fingers through his unruly fringe, "so what are we gonna do about this flight? Why don't we go to see the doc, an' tell them what happened, and they might be able to prescribe something else that won't affect you so bad."

Dean shook his head; "don't wanna take the chance; I'm scared it'll mess me up 'cause I don't wanna miss a moment of this vacation Sam, not a single second. We're only there for two weeks. I'll rely on what I know; the Sominex and the Dramamine."

Sam smiled; "okay, we'll get you dosed right up on those an' you'll be high as a kite all the way there and back. Sounds good to me!"

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam; "bein' high is the general idea when you're in a plane, Sammy."

Sam grinned and punched his brother's shoulder; "jerk!"

"Bitch," came the response.

xxxxx

And so it was that a crisp Fall morning saw Mr Robert Singer, veteran of the auto salvage industry and his two step-sons, Dean and Sam Winsborough clamber out of a cab and walk hesitantly through the automatic doors into Minneapolis St Paul Airport, dragging two overstuffed suitcases behind them.

The doors slid closed with a soft hiss behind them.

Their adventure had begun.

xxxxx

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's known as 'the point of no return'.

The little family walked, behind a crowd of chattering, excited passengers, along the brightly lit gantry towards the gleaming blue Eagle Air 747, both Sam and Bobby keeping a close eye on Dean who had grown increasingly quiet and agitated as boarding time approached, then finally arrived.

They were about halfway along when Dean's stride faltered and he stumbled to a halt; "Sam … I-I don' think I can …"

He leaned against the side of the gantry; grey-faced, trembling and looking for all the world like he was about to pass out.

Dropping his holdall, Bobby stepped over to support Dean as he subsided weakly into the wall.

Already at his brother's side, Sam dropped to his haunches so his face was level with Dean's.

"Hey Dean;" he gripped Dean firmly but gently by the shoulders, feeling his brother's whole body thrum as his heart raced, "look at me bro, c'mon, look at me; what's wrong?"

Dean looked up at Sam, a sheen of sweat glistening across his bloodless face. He shook his head; "S'mmy; I don' think I-I can go through with this."

Sam nodded slowly, giving Dean a moment to compose himself. He crouched in silence kneading soothing circles into his brother's heaving shoulders with his thumbs.

Eventually he spoke; "Dean, a couple of weeks ago, you asked me not to make it easy for you to talk yourself out of this, so I'm not going to."

Dean looked up at the two concerned faces hovering over him, ignoring the fascinated gawks of curious passers by.

"Dean, you're my badass big brother, you are the bravest, most reckless, most stubborn person I know and you're not gonna have your fantastic vacation taken away by that piss-ant pile of nuts and bolts out there," Sam coaxed, tilting his head towards the plane, it's gaping entrance hatch now only fifty yards away.

Dean nodded mutely, fighting to prevent his racing heart driving his gulping breaths into a full blown panic attack.

"Look dude;" Sam continued, "when you get off that plane the other end, there's balcony waiting for you …"

"... An' a sunset?" Dean asked, barely above a whisper.

"You betcha; a sunset, right over the ocean," Sam nodded, rubbing his hands up and down Dean's arms.

"You taken your meds son?" Bobby asked, picking up Dean's discarded carry-on bag.

Dean scraped a shaking hand over his clammy face; "yeah, m-maximum dose of everything," he replied, swallowing back an increasingly rising nausea.

"Plus one for luck," added Sam glancing at Bobby as he rubbed circles of reassurance over Dean's hunched shoulders.

Dean hadn't told them about the sly nips of whisky he'd put away during his frequent visits to the mens room, and he didn't need to. Sam could smell the alcohol on his breath and chose not to say anything on the basis that desperate times call for desperate measures.

Taking several stuttering deep breaths, Dean worked hard to fortify himself, and hauled himself up into something approaching a standing position, reaching out to Bobby for his carry-on bag.

"C'mon, l-lets do this," he grunted hesitantly.

Sam smiled; "that's more like it; c'mon, that sunset's waiting dude."

"It had friggin' b-better be otherwise I'll kick it's ass," Dean replied with a defiance he really didn't feel.

Once again, the three began their slow trek toward the aircraft's waiting door.

xxxxx

A young stewardess with a fuscia pink lipstick smile took their boarding passes; the smile dramatically fading as she saw the sickly complexion of the young man standing in front of her, holding out a shaking hand for his boarding pass to be returned.

"Are you okay sir?" She asked with genuine concern. Dean nodded without once meeting her eyes and managed to croak out a thanks; "he's just an uneasy flier," Sam replied politely over his brother's shoulder.

The fuscia smile appeared again, even more sunny than before; it was accompanied by a reassuring verging on patronising pat on the arm with fuscia pink nail varnish; "oh Sir, you'll be absolutely fine. Captain Crabtree is the most experienced pilot on the fleet, no need to worry, he'll get you to Oahu just fine."

Dean nodded again, plastering a watery fake smile across his face.

"If there's anything you need, sir, just ask any of the crew; we're here to help."

Sam thanked her warmly on Dean's behalf, deciding that the necessity of getting Dean seated, strapped in and comfortable outweighed the social niceties of chatting with the prettier members of the cabin crew.

Having chosen seats as far away from the window as possible Sam and Bobby sat themselves either side of Dean, forming a protective cocoon around him, as he settled stiffly into his seat, wide eyes scanning the filling aircraft cabin with the look of a man about to attend his own execution.

xxxxx

As the electronic voice of the Captain drifted through the cabin announcing that the aircraft doors were being closed, Dean took a long shaky breath, and burrowed back into his seat, assuming his customary in-flight position; eyes squinched closed as he gripped the arm-rests with a white-knuckled ferocity, an empty sick bag cradled in the crook of his arm like a comfort blanket.

He opened his eyes momentarily, just long enough to briefly glance at Sam; "it will be worth it, won' it?"

Sam grinned, placing his hand over the top of Dean's clammy fist. "It'll be all kinds of awesome bro', totally awesome."

Dean felt Bobby's calloused palm enfold his other hand. "Doin' good there kid: now try an' get some sleep."

xxxxx

It was as the plane was banking out of it's climb that Dean felt the first crashing wave of nausea roll across him. The hollow pit of fear that had been gnawing it's way through his stomach since the Winchesters had bedded down at Bobby's place last night, had been his constant companion all night and all morning; lurching between a tickle of unease in the pit of his belly, a creeping, lurking nausea and a burning ice-cold fear.

But this was the first time he knew for sure that he was going to be seeing that half slice of toast and honey Bobby had forced down his neck this morning.

He tried to fight it off as long as possible, gulping great, goldfish-like lungfuls of air as he desperately tried to quell the rising queasiness. This was so not fair; he had taken all his meds and done exactly what he was told (okay, apart from the whisky) like a good little traveller.

Sam knew perfectly well what was happening so was ready to be there like a flash, strong arms supporting Dean when he suddenly lurched forward, retching violently into the paper bag.

Dean could feel a strong hand rubbing his convulsing back and a duo of calm but concerned voices coaxing and soothing him through his misery as he continued to heave, grimacing as the whisky burned it's way back up his throat.

"I thought he'd taken all his travel sickness stuff?" Bobby gasped, looking across Dean's hunched back in dismay at Sam.

"I think it's the nerves, the Dramamine can't touch that," Sam responded sadly, "I just hope he's got enough of the sleeping tablets in his system to make it easier for him soon."

Bobby sat back in his seat with a sigh, and his heart ached for the poor suffering figure beside him.

xxxxx

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

It was two hours into the flight before the sleeping tablets, assisted by a crippling exhaustion borne of crushing anxiety and the misery of nausea, finally did their job and allowed Dean to slip into an uneasy rest.

Sam let out a sigh of relief as he sunk back ino his seat, weighed down by Dean's head lolling heavily on his shoulder; warm, shaky breaths, tainted by the tang of recycled alcohol, huffing damply into the crook of his neck.

Bobby leaned forward to look round Dean's still form at the younger Winchester, "y'ok under there boy?"

Sam nodded with a smile, scared to utter a word in case it disturbed Dean.

Eight hours with Dean's head resting on his sagging shoulder; he could see himself walking with a stoop for the next six months, but even that was infinitely preferable to Dean spending another second of this flight awake, and horribly, miserably aware of his surroundings.

The hours of the flight began to tick down; Sam was able to spend the next couple of hours working his way through the Dan Brown book, concentrating admirably despite the infuriating distraction of Dean's spiky fringe tickling his face. Dean had barely stirred, gradually calming into a deeper and deeper sleep, his face burrowing further into his brother's neck until Sam was convinced he was going to have teethmarks there by the time the plane landed.

In fact, Sam, against his better judgement, was daring to think fate may have cut them a break; a relatively pain, panic and vomit-free flight to their vacation was more than either of them could have dared hope.

His heart, therefore, sunk to his boots when he heard the pilot's reassuring voice crackling over the intercom that he was switching on the 'fasten seatbelts' light due to stormy conditions out over the pacific coast, and that they were heading for 'a little turbulence'; "nothing at all to worry about!" he finished glibly.

"S'easy for you to say …" Sam whispered to himself sourly, glancing towards Bobby in dismay; "perhaps it's just a precaution…" Bobby muttered hopefully.

Sam felt Dean shift slightly, squashing his nose firmly against Sam's jaw with a muffled sigh.

xxxxx

It was a half an hour before the plane gave it's first rattling judder, followed closely by another.

Glancing across the cabin, Sam caught a glimpse of misty tendrils of cloud wafting across the plane's wing as another shudder gripped the plane.

Sam's gaze turned to his sleeping brother as the timbre of the plane's engines rose through a rolling lurch from a hum to a strained buzz.

Bobby leaned over; "he okay?" he whispered, genuine concern in his eyes, his head bobbing from side to side as the plane jolted again.

"Yeah, so far," Sam mouthed; hoping, praying even, that Dean would sleep through this rocky patch.

No sooner had the words left his lips then Dean gave a quiet moan, and rubbed the heel of his hand across unfocussed, tired eyes as they fluttered open; he sat up, momentarily disorientated by his nap.

Sam gritted his teeth, loosing a stream of muttered invective on Winchester luck as Dean sat back in his seat, and glanced absently at Bobby who smiled weakly, cringing as the plane gave a gut-wrenching lurch.

Dean's sleep-glazed, vacant eyes suddenly widened in fear. He turned to Sam who suddenly could see the very real possibility of a panic-stricken break for the emergency exit.

"It's just a bit of turbulence, dude; nothing to worry about the pilot said," Sam urgently adopted his most soothing tone, "just a bit of stupid stormy stuff over the coast."

Dean gave a yelp as the plane shimmied, bucking as more and more wispy cloud tumbled over it's wings like sea-fret over a still ocean.

Letting out a gasp, Dean made a grab for Sam, only the seatbelt across his thighs stopping him from practically climbing into Sam's lap; such was his need to be close to something solid and reliable; something he trusted; his brother.

Shaking, unco-ordinated fingers guided by terror-glazed unseeing eyes clawed, panic-stricken at the buckle.

It broke Sam's heart to do it; gently but firmly pulling Dean's cold, clammy hands away from the belt buckle and holding them both tightly out of harms way, an action which Sam hoped, as well as saving Dean from himself, would bring him some small comfort.

"No Dean," Sam scolded gently, "you need this on; to keep you safe in your seat while we fly through this cloudbank. Pilot says it won't take long, before things smooth out."

Dean burrowed back into his seat, both his hands still gripping Sam's in a crushing grip, puffing out harsh panting breaths as, in his increasingly waking state, he fought to maintain some semblance of control.

Sam tried again to reassure Dean; "this plane's built to withstand way more than this crappy bit of cloud, it's nothing to worry about, I promise."

Dean flinched as Bobby's hand reached up behind him to squeeze his shoulder; "trust ya brother, boy; we ain't in trouble, I promise ya."

xxxxx

Gradually the cloud began to thin, and pale shafts of sunlight once again penetrated the cabin. The rocking and rolling of the plane subsided to a gentle sway until after a few moments, the soft ping of the 'fasten seatbelts' sign switching off heralded the end of the turbulence, and Sam was able to slip his crushed fingers out of Dean's sweaty fists, and try to wiggle some blood back into them.

"See, told you we weren't in trouble; it was just turbulence," smiled Sam.

"S-stupid freakin' turbulence" Dean murmured shakily, transferring his bone crushing grip once again to the arms of the seat rather than his brother's maimed fingers.

xxxxx

He opened his eyes a crack on feeling a soft pat on his arm to see Bobby, holding out a plastic tumbler of dry ginger and a couple of tablets.

"C'mon son, you must be thirsty, those sleepin' tablets give ya real dry mouth."

Dean eyed the drink reluctantly; now he was awake, his fractious belly was already starting to voice it's disapproval at his situation, but he had to admit; he was thirsty.

It was like Bobby could read his mind.

"The ginger'll help settle ya stomach, kid, c'mon, jus' a coupla sips."

Dean recognised the Dramamine and Sominex tablets in the older man's hand; "I reckon you're about due for your next dose of these."

Taking the tumbler with a shaking hand, Dean managed to sip enough to choke down the tablets.

"Okay son, the entertaining bit's over now;" Bobby smiled, "why don't you try an' get ya head down for the rest of the trip – we're halfway there." Sam nodded his enthusiastic agreement with that suggestion, his hand slipping back over Dean's in a discreet and quietly appreciated gesture of reassurance and unity.

He didn't go back to his book until Dean had sunk once again into a deep, medication-induced sleep.

xxxxx

Dean jerked awake as a hand gently jostled his shoulder; "wake up dude, we're there."

Blinking back a momentary confusion, Dean looked around the cabin, squinting sleepily at his travelling companions.

"Look;" Sam's pointed finger guided his vision toward the windows. Dean stared intently, trying to focus his vision past the rows of passengers between him and the windows.

He could see grass and buildings gliding past as the plane taxied to it's berth.

Dean's head dropped limply back into the headrest of the seat, and he closed his eyes, sighing with incalculable relief.

xxxxx

The whole experience of leaving the plane, collecting luggage, and the courtesy coach trip to the resort passed Dean by in a medication induced haze as he trailed along on rubber legs between Sam and Bobby, muzzy-headed and still skirting the edge of sleep.

They eventually stepped out of the coach and found themselves standing, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight before a low, whitewashed building surrounded by softly swaying palms and the chittering of crickets, a gentle chorus to the soporific rumble of the sea in the distance.

A festival of hibiscus and kukui blossom brought a riot of colour to the terraced grounds around them, as a tiny fountain tinkled into a sparkling pond, a delicate latticework of pink and white orchids clinging to it's rocky edges, looking down onto the tiny flashes of vermillion which darted haphazardly between the glistening ripples.

The three men stood and stared, each of them losing the power to speak, to blink, even to think.

It was the most beautiful sight they had ever seen.

xxxxx

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When something seems too good to be true, it's usually because it is, but sometimes ... just sometimes ... it isn't!

The three men stood in stunned silence and stared at the eden before them; hypnotised by the warm breeze which bathed them in the fragrance of a million colourful blooms.

"This is it? Our place?" Dean asked nervously, hardly daring to believe it could be true.

Bobby glanced down at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, "Mau Loa Palms Resort;" he read from the paper, looking up at the carved wooden sign on the wall of the whitewashed building; "yup, this is it!"

"Gentlemen, welcome to Mau Loa Palms!"

All three jolted out of their reverie by a soft woman's voice beside them. Glancing at each other in confusion they spun round to see an elegant young polynesian woman standing beside them, beaming a radiant smile in their direction.

"You must be the Singer family; I'm Leylaani and I'm delighted to welcome you to our resort."

Sam's face stretched into a grin as Dean's demeanour instantly changed. The man who only hours before had been a nauseously grey, puking, quivering bundle of drug-addled nerves was suddenly defying the remains of the heavy medication that was still assaulting his system and switching on the five hundred megawatt smile as he looked down at the dainty figure before him, her long black hair tucked neatly behind one ear with a pink rose.

"… an jus' when I was thinkin' this place couldn't get any prettier;" his grin softened into an appreciative smile; "man, I love bein' wrong!"

Bobby glanced at Sam with a resigned smile and rolled his eyes; "someone's feelin' better then!"

A soft blush coloured her tawny cheeks and her giggle crinkled the edges of her chocolate brown eyes as she lifted the lei of yellow hibiscus that she held in her hands over his bowed head and hung it round his neck.

"I hope you'll be very comfortable here;" she whispered with a smile as they touched foreheads in a traditional Hawaiian greeting; "oh, so do I," Dean groaned in delight, trying not to buckle at the knees.

After their warm welcome, the bemused three, gaily decorated in their yellow leis, followed their impossibly pretty guide into the resort.

"If you would like to follow me, I'll show you to your suite, I'm sure you must want to rest and freshen up after your journey."

Sam nodded enthusiastically; "oh God, Yes please!"

The elevator door opened on the second floor and she walked them along a short hall to suite number 12, opening the door and handing the key to Bobby.

"There you are sir; we've left a welcome buffet in your suite; if there's anything else you need, I'm happy to help."

She withdrew discreetly with a kind smile which, although aimed at all three of her guests, was distinctly tilted towards Dean; and softly closed the door behind her.

xxxxx

Sam, Dean and Bobby stood in mute astonishment, taking in their surroundings; the suite of rooms was a beautiful, oyster-white airy space; simple and rustic, decorated only with wall hangings and rugs of traditional Polynesian art. Huge windows bathed the whole space in a soft, early evening daylight.

It seemed like half a lifetime before anyone spoke.

"Holy crap;" croaked Sam weakly.

Dean had already turned his attention to the welcome buffet; a generous spread of breads, cakes, cheeses, nuts, cold meats and a selection of tropical fruits so colourful and fresh, it hurt their tired eyes to look at.

It made them realise how famished they were and all of them, even Dean whose appetite had well and truly come out of hiding after his ordeal of the last ten hours, fell upon the feast with enthusiasm.

It wasn't long before the spread had been reduced to a few empty, crumb strewn plates. Bobby and the boys sat back, rubbing their very full bellies; laughing as Dean's empty and drug-shrivelled innards gurgled alarmingly in protest at the onslaught they had just been subjected to. He leaned back in his seat with a blissful groan, licking sticky pineapple juice from his fingers. It was then that he spotted it.

His longed-for balcony.

xxxxx

Sam pulled open the glass doors, and the three stepped out to lean on the balcony's railings, hypnotised into silence as they watched the vermillion disc of the sun sink lower and lower, staining the darkening sky with layer upon layer of vivid, vibrant colour, worthy of any artist's pallette.

Dean's voice was the first to break the silence.

"This is real, isn't it Sam?"

Sam turned and looked at his brother who stood, leaning on the wrought iron rails, staring unblinking at the blazing horizon; his mouth slightly agape.

"Dude?"

"I'm scared, Sam;" Dean murmured, "I'm scared it's all a dream an' tomorrow morning I'm gonna wake up in another crappy motel room with stains on the carpet with only you and the roaches for company."

Bobby smiled sadly, patting Dean on the back; "It's real son, don' you worry; it's all real."

Sam glanced sideways to see Dean surreptitiously palming a wet cheek as sun finally dipped below the horizon leaving a faint line of fire along the ocean's furthest edge.

He guessed Dean's sixth sense had kicked in because almost immediately, he cleared his throat, reddened eyes darting around awkwardly; "jeez, that freakin' palm tree pollen is a bitch."

Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing smiles; "yeah, sure it is, Dean!"

It was another hour before either of them could tear Dean away from his beloved balcony. The sunset long since over, he was content to sit and gaze at the stars, listening to the soft whisper of the palms swaying in the breeze against a backbeat of the ocean's ebb and flow.

Both Sam and Bobby agreed that they were beat; stiff, sore and utterly, utterly shattered and consequently the room's beds were looking mightily inviting. Dean, on the other hand, who had far more reason to be exhausted than either of them seemed ready to take on the world.

A brief scan of their suite revealed two queen beds and a sofa bed in their main room, and twin bunk beds in a small room set aside, clearly in place for the children of their guests.

It was immediately obvious that neither Winchester was going to fit their long, solid frames into the bunk beds without either breaking them, getting stuck, or probably both, so they settled on an arrangement of one queen for Bobby on account of his ancient and still-healing back, and one queen for Sam on account of the fact that he was a freakishly long sasquatch and his great freaky sasquatch feet would hang off the end of the sofa bed.

Dean was more than happy with the sofa bed because he had the best view out of the window from it.

xxxxx

A little over an hour after the three men had retired, Sam and Bobby having just about fallen short of forcing Dean at gunpoint to get his head down to rest, Dean rolled over with a quiet sigh.

He could hear Bobby's contented snores, and he knew Sam well enough to gauge the rhythm of his breathing to know when he was in a deep sleep.

Rolling quietly off the couch he tiptoed across the room, slowly sliding open the glass doors with infinite care, and slipped out onto the balcony. He needed to feel that warm breeze across his bare shoulders, hear the rustling of the palms and the lapping of the ocean, smell the sweet fragrance of the kukui blossoms. He had to convince himself that this was real.

Despite Bobby's best assurances, he was scared to go to sleep.

xxxxx

Sam shifted in his bed; his head buried deeply in the soft, plump pillow which smelt faintly like something from one of those classy detergent commercials; all jasmine and honeysuckle or some crap like that. Ultimately he neither knew nor cared; it smelt clean and sweet and never once did it make him feel like he was going to wake up with some strange rash or unidentifiable bug bites. The quilt, crisp and clinically white, enveloped him like protective arms; softer, and more comforting than anything he had ever slept under.

He was comfortable; he was warm, he was cosy and beautifully rested after enjoying the best nights sleep he could ever remember having. He could spend his whole vacation in this heavenly cotton cocoon, and it would be sheer delight.

Across the room, even Bobby's muffled snores weren't enough to break through the soothing wall of utter bliss that surrounded him as he lay, skirting the edge of sleep.

So to say he was mildly perturbed when the cold water hit him in the face was an understatement.

Sam jolted up in bed with a gasping squawk and opened bleary, water-filled eyes. He blinked; wiping his dripping face to see Dean standing at the side of his bed holding an empty glass, a broad grin slicing his beaming face in two; resplendent in almost knee length sunflower-print swimming shorts and a crisp new pale blue short-sleeved button-down hanging open around a bare chest which clearly hadn't seen the light of day for months.

Sam blinked and glanced at his watch on the nightstand.

"Dean," he croaked, rubbing his tired eyes; "it's 7 o'clock – in the morning!"

Dean stood, bouncing in excitement on the balls of his feet; "c'mon Sam; there's a drop dead gorgeous beach out there; white sand, cloudless sky, swaying palms, cool water and hot chicks an' the only thing that's missin' is us!"

Dean scampered round Sam's bed, his bare feet pitter-pattering across the marble floor and gave the end of Bobby's bed a slap; "c'mon Methuselah; get your fossilised carcass up, things to do, places to go!"

Bobby mumbled hoarsely and slowly sat up in bed, adjusting his tangled string vest. Watery eyed, he blinked vacantly, scratching the sparse tangle of hair on his head with a yawn and looked across at Sam.

"Jesus Sam," he groaned, "What in the name of God have we unleashed?"

xxxxx

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's determined to squeeze every drop of joy out of his new experience …

After a protracted exercise in getting Sam and Bobby out of bed, and Bobby's insistence they get some breakfast inside them first, Sam was genuinely afraid Dean might actually explode with pent-up excitement, and briefly considered slipping another Sominex into his grapefruit juice.

To his relief, it proved unnecessary when, sated by a gloriously satisfying breakfast which even managed to distract Dean, the three men finally made their way down to the resort's stunning beach, in the process getting their first good view of their magnificent, palm-strewn surroundings; it's crystal-blue pools, cocktail bar, sun decks, tennis courts, and al-fresco dining.

Breakfast notwithstanding, it was still ludicrously early, and they guessed that was why both the beach and the resort were largely unpopulated. Earmarking three loungers in a discreet corner of the beach, they dumped their stuff; beach bag, towels, books, and the ever-present inflatable dolphin (who looked even more bug-eyed than usual after Dean had somehow managed to over-inflate it) onto the glistening ivory sand beside them.

Dean shrugged off his shirt and spun round, ready to charge, like a horse out of the starting gate, headlong into the sea, when his progress was halted before it began by a large hand gripping his shoulder.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dean turned to see Sam clutching a bottle of high-factor sunscreen.

Sam had been lucky enough to inherit his father's dark features and olive skin; they all knew that by the end of this two weeks Sam would be flying home effortlessly sporting the kind of rich nut brown tan that most mere mortals spend a lifetime courting bankruptcy and skin cancer trying to achieve.

Dean, on the other hand, was his mother's son, inheriting her fair complexion. Sam was only too aware that if they were diligent with the sun protection Dean would go home sporting a healthy, tawny sheen; not so much a tan as a honey glaze. If, however, Dean were left to his own cavalier devices, he would no doubt be spending the best part of the trip in agony and looking like a boiled lobster.

"C'mon dude, humour me here;" Sam coaxed, leaving no time for argument as he popped the cap and squirted a generous dollop of the lotion into his palm.

He passed the bottle to his eye-rolling, sighing brother.

"You do your front, I'll do your back."

Sam cheerfully ignored Dean's snarking and petulant huffing, noting however, that he didn't argue and began to rub the oily cream into his brother's muscular back.

Sam was used to only ever catching a glimpse of Dean's bare torso in the dilatory glow that passed as illumination in most of the skeevy motels they stayed in. In that dim, depressing light everything, including Dean's complexion, looked ten shades darker. However, here in the vivid, crystalline light of day, Dean's skin looked comically pale; even the freckles across his broad shoulders were faded to nothing more than a cluster of creamily faint splashes.

Bobby watched the exchange with amused affection; "Jeez boy, when did your body last see the sun?" he chuckled; "I reckon if you took your shirt off in a disco, you'd glow in ultra-violet light!"

"Kiss my ass, Golden Oldie," snorted Dean as he impatiently rubbed circles of the cool lotion across his chest.

Sam spluttered with suppressed laughter; "I dread to think how white that is!"

Dean offered the bottle back to Sam along with an extended middle finger.

"Legs?" Sam reminded, and was answered with a theatrical eye roll as Dean bent down and began to rub the lotion into his equally pale legs.

Eventually Sam was satisfied that between them, and despite Dean's unhelpful squirming, they had covered every inch of vulnerable flesh including those easy to forget, easy to burn places such as the back of Dean's neck and the tips of his ears.

"Right; you're done," he grinned.

"Can I go now Mom?" Dean snorted.

"Yup, knock yourself out;" Sam grinned as Dean disappeared at a gallop down the beach with his dolphin.

Sam shucked his own shirt and settled back in his lounger, watching for a moment as Dean and dolphin plunged into the ocean with a whoop of delight, then turned to see Bobby brandishing the bottle of sunscreen towards him; "c'mon son; you might be Mister Permatan, but you'll still need this, sun's friggin' strong up there."

Sam knew Bobby wasn't asking, and took the bottle, smiling his thanks.

Bobby, for his part, had no interest in gaining a tan. He was just happy to see the boys enjoying the trip of a lifetime, to lock his cares in a box for two weeks, rest his back and power his way through half a library of John Grisham novels.

Suitably priotected against the sun's glare, Sam slipped on his shades, pulled a cap over his forehead and settled back with a sigh of bliss against the lounger to catch up on a few of those delicious zees his hyperactive brother had deprived him of this morning.

xxxxx

Green slime dripped down the walls of the long-abandoned factory as the brothers picked their way warily through the darkness, stepping over fallen masonry and decades-worth of trespassers' litter. Their flashlight picked a tentative path through the miserable detritus as they gingerly inched forward searching the gloom for their quarry.

Behind him, Sam could hear Dean's quiet breaths, slow and controlled but undeniably nervous. Both Winchesters' senses were tingling wildly; something was amiss, this awful place was wrong, so very wrong …

The attack when it came was sudden and brutal; bursting out from behind a rotted wooden door, the werewolf was upon them in less than a second, sinking it's stinking yellow fangs into Dean's shoulder.

Sam instinctively cried out his brother's name as he heard Dean's terrible, strangled howl of rage and pain echoing through the crumbling building's forsaken shell.

Snapping awake, Sam felt momentarily light-headed from the pounding of his heart; "DEAN!" his terrified cry still rang in his ears. He sat motionless for a moment, blinking against the vivid, glaring sunlight. When he regained some degree of his senses, he fumbled shakily for his shades which had flipped into his lap as he jerked awake.

xxxxx

"Y'ok kid?" Bobby was looking across to his lounger, his book abandoned in his lap, face a picture of concern.

"Uh … yeah," Sam mumbled, feeling himself gradually calming; "I ... uh … had a dream!"

He looked across at Bobby's worried face with a rueful smile, "still tryin' to switch off, I guess!"

Bobby regarded him for a moment, then relaxed, seemingly satisfied that he was getting the truth; "ya brother doesn't seem to be havin' any problems switchin' off …" he nodded behind Sam with a smile.

Sam turned to see that Dean had gatecrashed a game of beach volleyball and was currently lapping up the enthusiastic attentions of four undeniably attractive bikini-clad girls.

The four, for their part, clearly had no issues or concerns about being interrupted in this manner, and in fact seemed completely enchanted by their interloper judging by the squeals of laughter that were drifting across the beach.

Sam shook his head with a smile, and giving up on the idea of sleeping, he picked up his book.

He guessed he had been reading around ten minutes before he heard a cry of alarm again; his head snapped up from his book just in time to see Dean dashing wildly across the beach being pursued by all four women who had completely abandoned their game of volleyball in favour of this far more entertaining sport.

Furthermore, Sam noted in amusement, Dean wasn't running at anywhere near his top speed, and clearly had every intention of being caught.

He plunged wildly into the shallows where his four pursuers caught up with him, dragging him down into the water and piling on top of him.

Sam and Bobby watched, listening to the splashing, spluttering and breathless shrieks of laughter from all five parties as Dean, wriggling out from under the melee, tried to crawl, exhausted, soaked and draped in seaweed, back up the beach, only to have his ankles grabbed and be dragged back into the sea.

A few moments passed before they looked up from their books again to see Dean staggering up the beach toward them, his lotion slicked torso caked with sand.

"Sammy," he panted, snatching Sam's book out of his hands; "c'mon Dan Brown'll still be there tonight; come and play volleyball with us," he scraped his soaked hair back off his forehead.

Bobby watched as Dean leaned, dripping seawater over Sam; his whole body shuddering periodically from unsuppressed stray chuckles which ran through him like tiny tremors. Sitting back into his lounger, Bobby smiled broadly; he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen something that made him feel so happy.

Sam grinned; "but you don't know how to play volleyball," he observed.

"I'm a fast learner," gasped Dean; "c'mon."

He looked keenly over his shoulder at the four giggling girls who had gravitated back towards their net and stood, beckoning him wildly back into their fold.

"C'mon Sammy, they keep accusing me of cheatin'," he coaxed, tugging at Sam's arm and grinning back at the girls; "I need some back-up before they finish me off completely."

"So I see," Sam sniggered; "I didn't know volleyball was a contact sport!"

"Neither did I;" Dean's grin turned into a smirk; "but it's freakin' awesome."

Sam smiled in submission and stepped up out of the lounger; "see ya later Bobby; if we're not back by sundown send in the police."

"Will do," smiled Bobby, returning his attention to John Grisham; "have fun."

xxxxx

The brothers jogged back over to the four girls who were already eyeing the newcomer's tall, muscular frame appreciatively.

"Mel, Brandi, Jenny and Francesca;" Dean gestured towards the girls for Sam's benefit, Jenny's a nurse, Brandi majors in Tennis, Francesca likes horseback ridin' and Mel plays the flute," he turned to Sam, lowering his voice; "she can do awesome things with her lips apparently!"

He turned back to the girls; "ladies, this is my brother, Samantha; he's twenty-six, with an IQ of twelve thousand, he's a Taurus and he makes all his own dresses," Dean introduced Sam with a completely straight face.

"Hi;" Sam smiled shyly to his admiring audience; "actually, it's Sam, an' I've got a complete jerk for a brother, he forgot to mention that bit!"

Sam lurched sideways with a laugh as Dean punched him in the arm, much to the hilarity of their gleeful audience.

"Okay," snorted Dean, eyes glimmering wickedly as he gathered two of the girls in close to him, "here's how it's gonna work. One guy, two girls on each team, the dolphin's the referee and when Dean's Dynamos led by the fearless warrior hero, Dean, squash Sam's Saps into the sand, I'm going to let my team-mates loose on Samantha to braid her long girlie hair and make her walk around all night like it."

Sam snorted in response, "Yeah well, Mister Hard Man; when Sam's Superstars, led by the evil Genius, Sam, trounce Dean's Donuts, I am prepared to release highly classified and devastating information about the opposing team captain to my victorious team-mates!"

Sam's evil grin was met with five sets of enquiring eyes; six, if you counted the dolphin.

"Namely, a certain self-proclaimed fearless warrior hero's secret ticklish spot!"

xxxxx

The game was afoot … and the stakes were high.

xxxxx

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns a harsh lesson about trying to humiliate his big brother

Bobby stifled a long yawn and put his well-thumbed book down beside him, stretching to work the stiffness out of his poor bones. Time for a walk, he decided; even the immensely talented Mr Grisham wasn't enough to distract Bobby from feeling his barely-healed back as it had gradually started to protest at his well-deserved and delicious inactivity.

He pushed his cap back up from his face and heaved himself up out of the lounger with a groan, pausing as he bent into a deep stretch.

Hands in pockets, he strolled casually across the beach shaking his head in amusement at the sight of Dean sprinting in arm-flailing panic across the beach pursued by four Baywatch babes all clamouring for his hide as Sam stood leaning weakly into the volleyball net, wiping away tears of laughter, and accusing his brother of 'squealing like a girl'.

"Hey Bobby," spluttered Sam, between breathless chuckles.

"You two havin' fun?" Bobby smiled, turning to watch as Dean was tackled to the ground with an outraged yelp by the tallest of the girls.

"He's gonna kill me later," Sam snorted through his laughter.

All four girls had piled on top of their helpless quarry, and all that could be seen of Dean was his weakly thrashing legs as he struggled manfully under their onslaught.

The only coherent words that Dean seemed able to choke out between his own howls of laughter and the shrieks of hilarity from his tormentors were "Sammy … friggin' … bitch …"

"They'll eat him alive," Bobby grinned.

"Sam worked hard to compose himself; "just wait until he finds out I used to play Volleyball at Stanford – he'll eat me alive!"

"This is painful to watch;" Bobby grinned, "I'm goin' for a walk, back's stiffenin' up."

He paused taking one last look at the melee which was slowly working it's way along the beach as Dean made repeated and increasingly desperate attempts to escape, failing utterly each time.

"Maybe see ya later, if you've managed to rescue laughin' boy over there," Bobby slapped Sam on the shoulder.

"Yeah catch ya later Bobby; take care of that back."

"Yes mother," grunted Bobby in response.

Sam watched Bobby fondly as he trudged slowly off the beach into the resort, then turned his attention back to Dean who had finally managed to scramble to his feet, only to be dragged over again.

He pondered calmly on how long he should leave it before attempting a rescue.

xxxxx

After a brief stroll around the resort, Bobby found himself in an eerily quiet al-fresco dining area. He nodded amiably to the stocky, prematurely balding man who stood behind the counter.

"Coffee sir?"

Glancing behind himself, Bobby suddenly realised the man was addressing him.

"Uh, sure why not;" he walked over to the counter, "don't like Sir; Bobby suits me jus' fine," he smiled.

"Des," came the reply, together with an outstretched hand "and I'm bored," he smiled, as Bobby shook the proffered hand; "I could use the company."

Bobby scanned the area, and he realised; the resort was, indeed, strangely quiet. Yes, he knew it was well after peak season and wasn't expecting it to be packed, but aside from Bobby and the Winchesters, Dean's fan club, and a sprinkling of random holidaymakers, the place was deserted.

He took the coffee gratefully, taking an appreciative sip as he leaned on the counter looking out at the resort; "why's it so quiet? he asked, "beautiful place like this, I can't understand it."

Des puffed out his cheeks. "Weird isn't it? This time of year's never our busiest, and it's hard times economically for a lot of folk at the moment, but even so;" he trailed off for a moment before leaning forward to lower his voice.

"The management won't ever admit it, but my guess is it's the deaths."

Bobby briefly choked on his coffee; "what deaths?"

"Hell, man, it's just awful," Des explained; "three deaths in last six months, all at this one resort, real awful!"

"Crap," Bobby patted droplets of coffee out of his beard with a napkin, "what happened?"

"No idea, it's totally weird," Des lowered his voice further so Bobby was straining to hear; "all three were guys; the first two were found in their beds, and the last one was lying in the back seat of his rental car."

Bobby gaped, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Heart failure they reckoned," Des continued, "but all the three guys were all young, between twenty five and forty, all in real good shape and according to what I've heard none of them had any history of heart trouble."

"Unlikely candidates for heart failure then," Bobby mused.

"About as unlikely as it gets," Des agreed with a distracted nod."Trouble is, news like this kinda gives a place a name; a bad one," he topped up Bobby's coffee as he spoke, clearly not wanting his companion to drift away, "and guests have dropped right off, a lot have cancelled and that's why the owner has offered those free vacations in various magazines, to try to promote Mau Loa again."

Bobby nodded, he could see the sense in that, "it'd be a tragedy if this place went bust," he sighed.

"Amen to that," replied Des, offering Bobby a muffin,. He politely accepted a blueberry one, and tucked in unenthusiastically, distracted by thoughts of healthy young guys between twenty five and forty dying in mysterious circumstances.

xxxxx

As the sun began it's slow descent, the shadows lengthened over the cocktail bar which Dean was overjoyed to discover was accessible from the pool. The whole pool area was largely deserted except for one honeymooning couple who were paying no attention to anyone or anything except each other, and six unruly figures fresh from the beach sitting around one of the tables which dotted the glistening surface of the pool.

"I can' believe all you lovely ladies are goin' home tomorrow," Dean drained his Pina Colada noisily, and slipped the paper umbrella behind his ear like a flower; "how am I gonna entertain myself with only Danno the dolphin and geekazoid here for company?"

He waved his hand dismissively at Sam and smiled droopily at the two girls who sat either side of him, about as close as it was possible to sit without actually being surgically grafted and the third who was sitting in his lap.

Sam knew that droopy smile, the one that became a permanent fixture on Dean's face when he was pleasantly and contentedly tipsy. It normally heralded an evening of relentless torment for Sam; Dean had a scarily fertile imagination in that respect.

He smiled as he watched the master at work. He could see why women adored his brother, and he admired how Dean could turn on that intangible 'something' that he possessed – charisma some would call it - effortlessly making any woman feel like they were the centre of his universe, showering them with enthusiastic and surprisingly sincere flattery, and giving them his undivided (if occasionally slightly drunken) attention, without ever once appearing sleazy or desperate.

Dean had promised faithfully on pain of death by all sorts of imaginative and disturbing means to think of the girls every single day, text them constantly and remain in their lives forever and ever when Sam knew perfectly well he would have forgotten all their names by morning when they were safely on the plane home.

"Hey, S'mmy, go get the drinksh again, bish," Dean grinned, enjoying the kiss of the cool azure water as it lapped around his chest, "Brandi, Jenny an' – uh - thingy here'll have a Harvey Ballwanger, an' I'll have tha' one wi' the rude name again," he slurred.

Sam hiccupped, gently lifting his own admiring companion, Francesca, off his lap; "what rude name?" he asked, stifling a soft burp.

Dean shrugged, and glanced down at the perky redhead on his lap, completely at a loss to remember her name; "um, summin' 'bout nipples I think …"

Standing up, Sam swayed precariously and reflected that he wasn't doing too badly in the 'obliterate your brain cells by drinking all sorts of exotic cocktails' stakes himself as he waded clumsily into the shallower water around the bar.

He didn't see Dean silently shooing the girls away and sliding awkwardly off his seat to follow his unsuspecting brother towards the bar, turning and making exaggerated finger-on-lips shushing gestures to them as he laboured his way through the water toward Sam.

Sam had only just ordered the drinks when Dean pounced, surprisingly agile for one in a state of moderate inebriation, and wrestled Sam fully under the water.

A fracas of splashing and shouting followed, ending abruptly as Dean leapt up out of the water to the delight of his shrieking, giggling audience, waving Sam's shorts above his head in a gesture of gleeful triumph.

"Dean!"

Sam shot frantically up out of the water, arms flailing, spluttering and coughing; but shot back down into it even more rapidly when he realised it was shallower than he thought, "gimme those back, jerk," he yelled furiously, his hands shooting to a dignity-protecting position over on his exposed vitals.

"Consider it payback for your little stunt earlier;" snorted Dean, holding the shorts aloft like a victory flag, "my friggin' ribs still ache!"

"Dean!" Sam was pleading now. Shuffling into the waist-deep water he followed his brother, panic written all over his face."Dean! Don't you dare …"

Scrambling up out of the pool Dean stumbled across the decking, and pulled up a chair enabling him to hang the shorts on the highest point that he could reach on one of the palm trees.

"An that's for not telling' me you used to play Volleyball at Stanford."

He folded his arms across his chest, grinning in smug satisfaction at Sam.

Sam crouched down lower as the water shallowed nearer the edge of the pool, still clinging to his privates with a white-knuckled grip. "Give me my friggin' shorts, you moron," he hissed.

"Come and get them," Dean replied defiantly, egged on by the teasing laughter and cat-calls of the girls around him.

The honeymooning couple continued to climb all over each other, blissfully oblivious throughout their loving canoodles to the furore going on around them.

xxxxx

"hey there Dean!"

Dean suddenly spun round on hearing a voice behind him.

It was Leylaani.

"Wonderful to see you having such a good time," she smiled broadly at Dean whose face melted into a dreamily soppy grin at the sight of the dusky beauty, her long, silky black hair swept back with a yellow rose.

The four girls fell silent, glaring at the exquisite interloper with pure unadulterated venom.

Sam gasped, ducking down lower in the pool, his blush hovering somewhere between scarlet and molten lava.

Dean eventually found his voice; "hey, Leylaani, y'lookin' gorgeous again," his starry eyes scanned her slim figure, before settling back onto her delicate face.

"How are you and your family enjoying our resort?"

"Oh, it's awesome," Dean sighed; "we love it, don' we Sammy?"

He turned to Sam who was crouching so low in the water he was just peering over the edge of the pool like Mr. Chad.

"Hey Sam," she greeted him warmly.

"Hey, L-leylaani," Sam replied meekly, making a point not to wave.

She cleared her throat, looking up at Dean, "I have a day off tomorrow, Dean, and wondered if you'd like me to show you some of the sights.

Dean's eyes widened to the point that they seemed to take up half his face; "oh," he spluttered; "you mean … the sights," he waved his finger randomly at the mountains which surrounded the resort.

"What sights did you think I meant?" she asked with a wicked smile, her voice loaded with sauce.

Now it was Dean's turn to blush.

She smiled brightly; "I'll take that as a yes then, see you tomorrow morning." Turning with a little wave she shimmied away, the soles of her flip-flops tapping lightly across the decking.

xxxxx

Sam had finally realised the evil dick that was his brother had no intention whatsoever of helping him out of his predicament, and so decided to take action while Dean was momentarily distracted with thoughts of killing time with the beautiful Leylaani, and the girls were distracted with thoughts of simply killing the beautiful Leylaani.

Gritting his teeth, he clambered out of the pool which proved more difficult than he would ever have imagined with one hand still clamped firmly over his vitals, and scampered frantically across the deck to the palm in which Dean had hidden his shorts, cringing as the early evening breeze fluttered softly across his bare white butt-cheeks, and praying to God, heaven and anyone else who might be listening that he could remain un-noticed.

He froze, his heart sinking and his blush rising as he heard Dean's gleeful shout, "hey Sammy, pass my shades, your ass is dazzling me!"

No longer distracted then …

xxxxx

Bobby walked quietly, still mulling over his conversation with Des, towards the pool deck to catch up with the boys.

Lost in thoughts of the mysterious deaths of three young healthy guys, he would have to tell the boys to take care of themselves.

Rounding the corner he stopped dead in his stride as Sam, naked as the day he was born and blushing furiously, scampered past him like a frightened rabbit in headlights, bare feet pattering across the wooden decking as he clung grimly to his crotch.

Dean stood on buckling knees, sobbing with laughter and surrounded by his pretty admirers from the beach who were clearly appreciating the sight of the bewildered, naked figure darting around in front of them.

And Bobby decided there and then; these boys shouldn't be worrying about anything except having fun.

If there was any worrying to be done, Bobby would do it.

Xxxxx

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby and Dean get busy; Sam gets bored.

The humid, airless night settled over Dean like a warm blanket as he stood on the balcony, sipping absently on his beer bottle and staring out over the full moon which rode like a galleon on a millpond-still sea of liquid crystal.

Leaning on the railings, he gazed unblinking, soothed into a heavy-eyed silence by the moonlit vista before him and was so enraptured by the lovely panorama, he couldn't say how long Sam had been there standing beside him before the younger Winchester eventually spoke up.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Dean turned with a slight splutter on his beer towards the unexpected voice.

"How does someone so friggin' big sneak around as quietly as you?"

Sam smiled at his brother, ignoring the remark; "I mean, everything here is so fantastic; the sea, the stars, the trees, the pool, the girls, the sand ... I haven't seen anything yet that's not stunning."

Dean interrupted, "well, 'cept for your ass anyways," his eyes twinkled wickedly.

Sam leaned across and slapped the back of his brother's head; "hardly fair; that wouldn't have been on display if it wasn't for you."

"Back at ya," snorted Dean quietly, "you full-on deserved it; blabbing my secrets to everyone."

Sam grinned as he lifted the condensation-beaded bottle to his lips; "man, I said it before and I'll say it again, you totally squealed like a girl;" his chuckle echoed teasingly into the bottle.

"I so did not, bitch;" Dean rounded huffily.

"Did too," Sam responded, still grinning round the neck of his bottle.

"Truce?" he suggested quietly.

"Truce," Dean nodded.

The brothers clinked bottles and fell into an easy silence looking out over the silky ocean.

xxxxx

When Sam had eventually coaxed his reluctant brother back into the room, they paused in the doorway on seeing Bobby sitting on his bed, brow furrowed in rapt concentration as he studied his Blackberry.

Rapidly placing it face down on the bed beside him, he Looked vaguely flustered when he saw the boys.

Dean's face broke into a grin; "you surfin' porn Bobby? Aint' y'a bit old for that kinda thing?"

Bobby got up with a grunt; "no an' no so kiss my ass," he replied wearily, bending his fractious back into a stretch.

"I'm turnin' in," he muttered; "you boys stayin' out moongazin' on the balcony?"

Dean shook his head with a sly smile; "no, I've seen enough moonin' today," he grunted, tugging his shirt over his head as he sunk contentedly onto the sofabed; "reckon I'm scarred for life…" he lay back slowly and burrowed into the fat white pillow.

It wasn't long before sleep softly claimed him.

xxxxx

Sam awoke without, he gratefully noted, the help of a faceful of water. Looking up, he squinted through the brilliant sunlight to see Dean's silhouette seated on the balcony.

Glancing at the clock, he groaned when he realised it was 6.30 am, and the sun had just risen, coating the landscape with the fresh blue light of a new day. Sitting with a glass of juice in his hand, Dean looked cool, fresh and utterly relaxed in a flatteringly loose white, short-sleeved button down and a pair of beige chinos, Sam could hear him softly humming a song, no doubt some mullet rock atrocity which would be completely wasted on Sam.

He sighed, bowing to the inevitable, and glanced wistfully at his comfortable pillow as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched high enough for his fingers to brush the ceiling.

Walking over to the balcony, he mumbled a sleep-muzzed greeting to Dean; "not dressed for the beach?" he asked.

Dean drained his juice: and shook his head as he looked up at Sam. "Meetin' Leylaani, remember?" He replied quietly, conscious of waking Bobby; "she's showin' me the sights."

"I bet she is," muttered Sam with a wry grin.

Dean's soft smile stretched into a smirk at the thought. "I should be so lucky," he snorted.

xxxxx

By late morning, the sun was relentless, blazing fiercely down on the resort which simmered helplessly in the blazing heat. After braving the beach for a good couple of hours, both Sam and Bobby eventually retreated back into the resort, Sam to the safe haven of the pool to cool his sizzling shoulders and Bobby to the covered dining area where he hoped he might be able to hook up with his new best friend, Des.

Bobby had plans today. They'd have to wait until this heat let up a bit, and given that he knew damn well Sam wouldn't like them, he would have to make sure Sam didn't get to know about them. But his plans were reliant on a few more answers than he already had and he hoped that Des, given the right questions, would provide those answers.

Striding towards the counter, Bobby smiled as he saw the familiar premature bald patch emerge from behind the refrigerator. Des returned his smile and brandished the welcoming coffee jug.

Plan phase one was underway.

xxxxx

Dean closed his eyes against the warm, fragrant wind which swept his face as Leylaani's cherry red, open-topped MG roared along the road. He inhaled deeply of her scent; the faintest of perfumes, sweetly citrus with a hint of spice, at once both elegantly subtle and wickedly alluring.

Taking a deep shaky breath, Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest, and it was then he realised; he was scared.

He was scared that his time here had to end.

This wasn't his life; Dean's life was dark and dangerous. It was a never ending treadmill of sorrow and anger, pain and regret and crushing concern for Sam; a maudlin cocktail of gun oil, holy water and whisky.

Here he was enjoying crystal seas, glistening white sand, brilliant blue skies, breathtaking sunsets which melted into intensely black, star-strewn nights, and the affectionate attentions of the most beautiful woman he'd ever set eyes on.

He couldn't bear the thought that it couldn't be forever.

A cool hand patted his forearm.

"Hey there droopy; is my driving sending you to sleep?"

Dean jerked into wakefulness; "uh … yeah," he stammered as he regained his bearings; "seriously Leylaani, I'm so chilled here, I could sleep for a month, only I don't want to. I don't want to sleep at all because I don't want to miss a second of the time I've got here."

The car pulled to a smooth halt outside a small restaurant.

"Hungry?" Leylaani looked up at Dean; "well, I can't let you even think about leaving Hawaii without sampling a lunch here; this place is wonderful they do the best seafood on the island."

Dean smiled broadly and nodded enthusiastically, utterly hypnotised by his companion's sparkling, chocolate brown gaze.

"That'll be something for you to stay awake for," she smiled.

Dean hadn't even heard any mention of seafood.

xxxxx

Sam finished his one hundredth lap of the pool, and glanced, prairie-dog like, over the side.

A beer with Bobby seemed like a good idea. Of course, it would be an even better idea if he could actually find the older man in the first place.

After a brief and fruitless exploration of the resort, Sam sat back down beside the pool beneath the shade of a tall palm tree; the one, he noted wryly, that Dean had seen fit to secrete his shorts in yesterday, and rummaged in his beach bag for his phone.

The phone picked up the other end after six rings.

"Hey Sam."

"Hey Bobby, where are you? Thought you might fancy a beer."

"I – uh - went for a walk," Bobby responded cagily, "back was actin' up."

"Oh, okay," Sam shrugged; "where are you?"

Bobby hesitated; "I'm - uh - downtown," he replied economically.

Sam jolted in his seat, "downtown? That's about six miles away!"

"Well," Bobby cleared his throat; "I walked onto a bus; fancied doing a bit of sightseeing and lookin' round a few stores."

Sam frowned. Bobby and retail therapy; it wasn't an obvious partnership. "Well, how long you going to be?" he asked.

Sam almost heard Bobby roll his eyes; "not long;" he responded, "when I get back we'll have that beer. You never know; lover boy might be back with us by then."

Sam chuckled, "I don't think so; they way they were eyein' each other up this morning, we'll be lucky to see him before sundown."

Bobby let out a long, satisfied sigh; subject successfully changed. Nice one Singer.

xxxxx

The afternoon shadows began to lengthen as two figures strolled hand-in-hand along a remote and deserted beach.

"Enjoy that?" Leylaani looked up at Dean.

He glanced down at the tiny, elegant woman beside him, as delicate and exquisite as the crimson rose she wore in her hair.

"That was awesome," he smiled warmly, "never had swordfish before."

Leylaani, nodded, "it was wonderful wasn't it; so fresh and flavoursome."

"Real fresh," Dean agreed with a nod; "it ate my salad."

Leylaani hesitated, gazing up at her grinning companion before slapping his arm.

"Idiot," she laughed; "not THAT fresh!"

They continued their casual, directionless trek; barefoot along the glistening, sun-baked beach, their shoes abandoned in Leylaani's car.

They had been travelling that way for some thirty minutes when Leylaani suddenly stopped.

Dean stumbled to a halt beside her; "you okay?" The concern was genuine in his eyes.

She looked up at him with a shy smile; "yes," she reassured; "I'm okay, I'm really very okay indeed."

On tiptoe she reached up and cradled his face between her palms, ghosting a soft kiss across his lips.

He stared into her impossibly pretty face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before gathering her into his arms, stooping deeply as she melted into his hungry kiss.

xxxxx

Bobby slipped his phone back into his pocket and adjusted the tie that he had only just bought that afternoon along with the cheap shirt and suit from the charity store.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped confidently through the hospital's automatic doors.

xxxxx

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam misses his family ...

Strangely adrift on suddenly finding himself alone, Sam settled in beside the pool with a rapidly melting mint choc-chip ice-cream and closed his eyes partly so that he could lay back and enjoy the sun's soothing warmth on his face, but mainly to try to avoid looking at the honeymooning couple who had taken up residence on a pair of loungers right opposite him and were currently engaging in an energetic tussle in which the ultimate aim seemed to be to eat each others faces.

After a few excruciating moments of blindly chasing melting droplets of mint ice cream down the sides of his cone whilst trying hard not to listen to the giggling and groaning emanating from the writhing four-legged heap across the pool, he eventually cracked open an eye and frowned.

"Heck, man! Let the poor girl up for air …"

Wandering back up to the room, he took a long refreshing shower, then suitably cool and freshened, he was drawn to the balcony. No affectionate and vocal gymnastics here, just the gentle roll of the turquoise tide breaking softly against the beach below him.

For a while he sat and listlessly scanned his book; Dan Brown's words skimming across his line of vision, but not sinking in. All he could concentrate on was how empty the balcony seemed without his dewey-eyed brother sitting on it gazing longingly over the ocean.

Phoning Bobby again, he sighed when the older man's voicemail invited him to leave a message, and headed down to the beach, meandering aimlessly along the glimmering sand throwing stones into the encroaching tide.

He sat awhile, losing himself in his thoughts as he watched the sinking sun cast a russet stain across the darkening horizon, then decided to head back to the pool, hoping that love's young dream had decided to take their athletic proclamations of affection back into the privacy of their room.

Dusk was beginning to fall when he approached the brightly lit poolside, and as he reached the pool he heard a rhythmic splashing. Taking a glance into the water he saw Dean ploughing across the pool at an easy backstroke.

He grinned broadly.

xxxxx

Given the rare occasions he was actually called upon to do it, Dean was a surprisingly strong swimmer. His broad muscular shoulders and long arms were purpose-built for the job, and Sam folded his arms, watching in fascination as Dean moved swiftly and smoothly through the water. He noticed that even after only two days, Dean had already caught the sun, a faint tawny sheen which coloured the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones was also evident across his chest and shoulders as his body arched out of the water with each leisurely stroke.

With his eyes closed and his pursed lips huffing out long slow breaths, he looked a picture of relaxed elegance. Only the Garfield shorts and the inflatable dolphin bobbing around the shallow end of the pool somewhat shattered the illusion.

Sam felt his face drop into a soppy smile.

A few moments passed before Dean, without opening his eyes or missing a stroke, spoke up.

"You gonna stand there like a wet drip droolin' over me all night or you gonna get your pervy ass over to the bar an' get me a drink?"

He did a slow barrel roll in the water and kicked for the side.

"Pina Colada," he shouted up to Sam, his broad smirk almost splitting his face in two; "an' don't forget the umbrella, bitch."

xxxxx

Bobby pored over the files He'd managed to acquire from the pleasantly helpful if not terribly smart mortuary technician. He really was groping in the dark here. Judging from the autopsy pictures, the three guys in question clearly looked after themselves; all had been in excellent shape, which meant there was no earthly reason why any of them should have keeled over with heart failure of all things.

One maybe? One could have been one of those shockingly tragic flukes of the very worst kind that happens occasionally, but three? Nah; this was no fluke.

Bobby's visit to Des this morning hadn't been quite as productive as Bobby had hoped; the guy sounded almost cagey when Bobby had pressed the issue. He'd more or less repeated what he'd told Bobby yesterday, nodding in empathic concern when Bobby had voiced his worries that he had two stepsons in tow and both of them seemed to fit the prime 'at risk' category for this – thing – whatever it was.

Management weren't saying anything about the whole horrible situation, and they'd apparently made it very obvious that they didn't like staff talking about it, especially to guests. Bobby shrugged: the guy was concerned for his job. Can't blame him; no-one had any cash, the world was going to shit. People needed their stability where they could find it.

He ought to become a hunter and then having no friggin' cash was the norm. It was a stability of sorts …

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he blinked hard as the tiny print on the reports blurred. Bobby had read far too many of these damn things over the years; he'd spent a depressing amount of time in mortuaries, far more than any sane person would ever want to; learning, over the years, a fairly encyclopaedic knowledge of medical jargon, drug names, and anatomical terminology.

A knowledge that enabled him to grasp the significance of a single word that appeared on all the reports, buried inamongst paragraph upon paragraph of unfathomably dry clinical ramblings …

Oxytocin.

He knew that Oxytocin was a hormone produced by both male and female bodies. It only appeared in any notable quantities on certain occasions, most notably during childbirth. So, okay, that clearly wasn't an issue here, given that all the vics were guys, but there was also another occasion when Oxytocin could be found in the body at highly elevated levels ... during sexual climax.

The report stated that levels found in the Mau Loa bodies were four hundred percent higher than had ever been recorded.

Bobby's eyebrows took a slow march upwards; "damn … what a way to go!"

He snapped the folder shut and his heart plunged into his guts.

xxxxx

He handed the files back with a warm smile and a nod of thanks to his friendly, totally unsuspecting partner in crime and made his way out of the hospital; concentrating on getting back to the boys before they suspected anything was afoot.

Turning on his phone, he dialled a familiar number, smiling as an equally familiar voice sounded on the line."Hey secret shopper, maxed out your credit card then?"

"Sam," Bobby acknowledged that Sam's voice sounded undeniably relieved; "where's Dean, he back yet?"

"Yeah, he's here," Sam smiled, glancing back to Dean, still fooling around in the pool; "Leylaani managed to shake him off eventually;" he chuckled as Dean made a big show of ignoring him, "you should see him, Bobby; he looks like the cat that got the cream;" he effected the most teasing sing-song voice he could manage, "he's in luuurve, Bobby … Dean and Leylaani sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G …"

Dean swam casually past him, presenting a single raised finger over the side of the pool.

Bobby tried to keep the panic out of his voice; "okay, Sam on my way back, get that beer on ice."

He fidgeted and fretted as he stood waiting for the bus back to the resort; glancing at his watch and trying to look outwardly cool and unruffled for the benefit of passers-by when in actual fact he wanted the darn thing to make the whole journey in record time with a rocket up it's tail pipe.

He knew now those unfortunate guys had fallen victim to a succubus; a shapeshifting female demon of sorts. A merciless seducer of men with a voracious sexual appetite which violently and fatally drained every trace of her victims' life force. She was fussy about her prey too; she was only interested in fit, strong guys, young and virile enough to give her a good invigorating dose of what she needed.

He couldn't get one word out of his mind and his heart broke for Dean.

Leylaani.

xxxxx

tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's really enjoying his holiday ... maybe just a little too much!

Jolting awake, Sam blinked wetly through the dusky moonlight. He rolled over, glancing at the clock; 4.00 am.

Arching into as stretch, he wasn't sure what had woken him from such a deep and dreamy sleep, until he heard a sound. A sound which wasn't right.

Against a backdrop of quiet shuffling of bedclothes, the hum of the a/c and Bobby's snores, he heard it again.

A groan.

xxxxx

He sat up, rubbing the heel of his hand across his tired eyes, and squinted across the dark room to the sofabed, seeing the lump beneath the bedclothes shift uncomfortably, giving another pained groan which turned into a gasp.

"Dean?" He whispered, glancing across at Bobby to see if he had heard ithe sound. A stuttering snore rose from the older man's bed. Obviously not.

As his eyes gradually adapted to the darkness, he could clearly see the quilt over the sofabed tremble.

"Dean?"

Hopping blearily out of bed, Sam was across the room in two strides.

"Dean, you okay man?" He crouched down, and folded the bedclothes back down off Dean's face.

He got a shake of the head for his trouble.

"Sammy …" Dean ground out between clenched teeth; "oh, God, Sammy …"

Sam ghosted a hand across Dean's forehead, sucking in a sharp breath at how clammy and cold it felt.

"What is it Dean, you sick?"

He was rewarded with a weak nod.

"M'guts Sammy. O-on fire."

Dean rolled over onto his side, curling in on himself, and let out a choking grunt.

"Something you ate?" Sam asked quietly, carding his fingers through Dean's sweat-dampened hair.

"Mus' be…" Dean gasped in reply.

Sam gently eased Dean onto his back, slipping his hand under his crossed arms where they tightly hugged his midriff, and immediately felt his brother's rigidly distended abdomen through his damp T shirt.

"What did you eat yesterday?" he asked, trying to glean some idea of Dean's condition.

Dean took a long shuddering breath.

"Breakfast," he mumbled, voice muffled as he turned his head, smooshing his face hard into the rumpled pillow.

"Yeah, I remember that," Sam replied, gently kneading Dean's fractious belly.

"Th-then an ice-cream, cho-chocolate I think,"

"Uh-huh."

"Then I wen' and met Leylaani."

Sam nodded, waiting patiently as Dean let out a panting gasp and drew his knees up to his chest.

"We ha-had some olives and - uh - breadsticks, then a prawn cocktail."

Sam nodded again.

"Th-then swordfish with salad and I had …" he paused for a moment, taking a deep panting breath, " … a side of fries."

Sam watched his brother through the hazy moonlight, feeling the cool, fragrant breath of the breeze through the open window across his shoulders.

"An, I think I had a couple of beers."

"Uh-huh," Sam's eyebrows started a slow march upwards.

"An' ... an' then we had a fruit salad afterwards, then I tried the strawberry gateau."

He paused in thought for a moment, brows knotted in pained concentration, "then I came back here."

Sam continued to stare.

"You had all that fruit off the evening buffet," he reminded Dean.

Dean nodded pitifully.

"Then I g-got peckish later and got a burger and fries from the diner."

Sam blinked.

"Oh, an' another ice-cream - a strawberry one."

Sam's jaw began to drop.

"Then I couldn't resist; I had some more of those peaches from the buffet."

"How many?" Sam asked hesitantly, "one, two?"

"Six," croaked Dean; "with cream."

Sam's hand moved from rubbing Dean's forehead to rubbing his own in pained exasperation.

Dean stared wide-eyed through the darkness at Sam; "so not that much, really!"

Now it was Sam's turn to groan.

xxxxx

Dean's pallid face glistened with a cold sweat as another cramp ripped through his belly, He rolled onto his side again, curling up around Sam's flat palm still resting across his midriff.

"Sick Sammy," he moaned quietly.

"I can see that," Sam replied dryly.

He turned on hearing a sound behind him, to see Bobby sitting up in bed, yawning.

"Whassup?" He grunted, barely awake.

"Dean's sick," Sam replied economically, his spare hand returning to Dean's forehead.

Both brothers were stunned into mute shock at the speed at which Bobby leapt out of bed, moreso when he lost his footing in the discarded bedclothes landing in a sprawling faceplant across the floor.

"What's wrong?" he gasped, clambering to his knees; "he breathin' okay? No chest pain?"

Dean uncurled slightly, looking quizzically at the older man; "no, guts ache!"

Bobby sighed with relief; "oh good."

Dean's brows twitched, unknotting briefly, "good?"

Shaking his head, Bobby cleared his throat, "sorry, I mean, good that it's not anything - uh - more serious."

He tried to change the subject; "what did you eat?" he asked, eyes full of concern for the obviously distressed figure lying before him.

"Easier to ask what he didn't eat," replied Sam with a cocked eyebrow, threading his long fingers through Dean's soaked fringe.

Dean jacknifed inward, gasping loudly when another cramp ripped through his stomach, crushing sam's hand as his arms tightened their grip around his tortured belly.

"Shall I go down and see if they can give me anything for him?" Bobby asked, "what 'bout some of that pink stuff that's supposed to be good for stomach upsets."

"Hey, quit talkin' 'bout me like I ain't here …" Dean weakly grumbled, as Bobby rose to his feet among a symphony of crackling joints.

Sam looked round and nodded his agreement; "good idea," he smiled, tugging his crushed hand out from under Dean's arms.

They watched Bobby go as the door slowly closed behind him.

"Ugh, I'm never eatin' again …" Dean moaned miserably, swallowing back a rising nausea.

Sam shook his head with a wry smile, "well that should make you feel a whole lot better."

xxxxx

By the time Bobby made it back up to the room, he saw the sofabed empty, quilt discarded all over the floor indicating it had been vacated in a hurry, and from the bathroom came the unmistakable sounds of someone being violently sick.

Bobby's shoulders slumped as he sighed.

Sam's muffled voice sounded from the bathroom; 's'okay Dean, take it easy; there y'go … deep breaths, 's'okay man …"

Bobby knocked gently, "everything okay in there?"

"Awesome," came Dean's broken voice, barely audible between panting breaths.

It was a few moments before the door opened and Sam stepped out, strong arms supporting his grey-faced brother, timidly clutching his stomach and seemingly unable to stand under his own steam. Together, they stumbled back toward the bed.

Bobby fussed and fretted, bringing a glass of water and gathering up the quilt, helping Sam to make Dean comfortable. "They're sending some medicine up with their duty first aider, then they can call a doctor if necessary.

"Okay, thanks Bobby," Sam smiled, propping Dean up against his shoulder to help him take a drink from the glass of water.

xxxxx

Sam and Bobby stood around the bed watching as Dean seemed to settle a little, his eyes drooping closed as he sunk deeper into the mattress, despite his muttered protestations about 'havin' a friggin' audience.' They both turned upon hearing a knock on the door.

"Thank goodness," sighed Bobby, trudging across the room; "that'll be the first aider."

He opened the door and his jaw dropped in horror as he saw the concerned face of the figure standing in the doorway clutching a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

It was Leylaani.

Xxxxx

tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sick Dean and an unwanted visitor - and all poor Bobby wanted was a rest ...

Standing frozen in the doorway, silhouetted against the subtle amber glow of the night-light, Bobby's chin worked it's way toward the ground as he glared at the woman before him; "You?" he growled menacingly.

"Hello, Mr Singer," she smiled up at him in slightly apprehensive concern, peering around the solid obstacle of Bobby's barrel chest as he blocked the doorway, "I heard Dean's sick, and I'm the duty first aider; I've come to see how he is." She held up the bottle of pink medicine; "I-I've bought something that might help."

Smiling apologetically, she shimmied past Bobby who steadfastly refused to move out of her way, his mind frantically racing with thoughts of what to do next.

"Dean?" She whispered, dropping to her knees beside the bed.

"Hey Leylaani," Sam smiled; "hostess, tour guide, first aider, is there anything you can't do?"

She giggled shyly; "oh, I'm full of surprises, Sam."

Bobby physically bristled at her words and his face fell into a murderous scowl as he strode toward the sofa bed. "He's asleep," he barked, placing his body between Leylaani and the dozing man. His defensive words trailed off as Dean's head rocked slowly and his eyes flickered open as he let out a long groan.

Leylaani leaned to reach round Bobby and ran gentle fingertips through Dean's hair, still damp with sweat; "hey Dean, how you feeling, honey?" She folded the quilt down to his chest and her fingertips traced the curves of his cheekbone and neck, coming to rest on his shoulder

Dean groaned again, curling in on himself as another vicious cramp wrung his tender innards.

"Leylaani?" He cringed, turning his head away from his visitor's gentle touch. Even through the soft half-light, Sam could see the deep blush which erupted across his brother's pallid, unshaven face. Rank with sweat, Dean was painfully aware that he looked wrecked and miserable, the sour odour of sickness and nausea hanging heavily over him and he was mortified that Leylaani should be seeing him in this condition.

"Dean, Leylaani's the first aider, she's just come to check if you need a doctor," Sam reassured.

Bobby abruptly stepped in her way, yanking the quilt firmly back up to Dean's neck. "Jus' something he's eaten; he'll be fine in a day or two."

Leylaani looked up at Bobby with an awkward smile and then at Sam; clearing her throat, she handed the medicine to Bobby. "This might help," she suggested quietly, "if he's no better by the morning, then I'll call the resort's doctor."

Taking the bottle with a grudging nod, Bobby decided there was no way he was giving this to Dean without checking it first

"Thanks Leylaani, we'll let you know how he is in the morning." There was a pause, "I'm sure you're very busy," he added, folding his arms; conversation over.

Both brothers glared at the older man; Sam's face registering angry disbelief.

Leylaani gently patted Dean's shoulder; "um, I'd better just go. Your stepfather's right; you need your sleep."

There was a rapid and unanimous shaking of heads between the brothers; "no, Leylaani, stay as long as you want; Dean's happy to see you," Sam glanced beliigerently at Bobby; "aren't you dude?"

Dean smiled the first time since waking; "yeah," he sighed soppily; "just ignore the Golden Oldie there, he gets real grumpy when his biorhythms are low."

Squirming out from under the quilt, he tried to sit up and make a game effort at looking stronger, fitter and not like he was fighting back a threatening queasiness.

"Sammy," he croaked; "c'n I have a drink?"

Nodding smartly, Sam moved to rise, but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll get it, son," Bobby reassured; "stay with ya brother."

Sam watched with a bemused shake of the head as Bobby stomped into the kitchenette area.

xxxxx

Slumping against the refrigerator, Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose with a long sigh.

What the hell was he doing? Being obnoxious to this lovely young woman, that's what.

He had not a shred of evidence that she was the succubus, but still he couldn't get rid of the creeping dread in the pit of his stomach. All the pieces fitted too well, there was something about her that didn't ring true; something secret, something dangerous.

Why the hell does she keep hanging round Dean?

Why is he sick? Is it really something as simple as overindulgence?

Why the hell did he ever think it would be a good idea to keep this whole episode from the boys?

He glanced up at a cupboard into which he had secreted a small flask, together with a few other depressingly familiar items on their arrival; a bag of salt, and two knives, one of silver the other of iron.

It was the hunter's mantra – 'just in case …'

xxxxx

"What's he doing in there?" Sam asked no-one in particular, "how long's it take to get a glass of water?"

As if on cue, Bobby emerged from the kitchenette juggling four glasses.

Placing them on the table, he silently handed one each to Sam and Dean, and a third to Leylaani, taking a sip of the fourth himself.

Leylaani took her glass with a smile of thanks, "thank you Mr Singer;" she responded quietly, placing the glass on the nightstand without taking a sip.

His alarm bells ringing wildly, and desperate to keep her away from Dean, wherever Leylaani was, Bobby made it his business to be. Like her shadow, he was there, leaning forward and blocking her view and her reach on the pretence of adjusting the quilt whenever she made a move to touch Dean.

"Bobby, stop climbin' all over me for chrissakes," Dean barked irritably, his throat convulsing as the nausea rose along with his annoyance.

Bobby reluctantly stepped back, to give the agitated patient some space. Every fibre of his being longed to throw her out of the room but without unequivocal proof that she wasn't who he guessed she was, there was little he could do without raising the boys' suspicions.

His heart sank when he realised he was running out of options; he would have to take action before he put the boys in danger and it broke his heart to think their carefree vacation would no longer be carefree. Desperation overwhelmed him, and the only thing he could think to do was to half-knock, half-throw Leylaani's glass of water off the nightstand soaking her back and arm.

"Oh crap, sorry Leylaani," he gasped insincerely as she and Sam leapt to their feet in shock, making Dean recoil in pained alarm.

"Oh, it's okay, Mr Singer, honestly, no harm done;" she reassured, dabbing her soaked arm dry with the hem of her T shirt as Sam angrily reached for a towel to help dry her off.

"Bobby, what the hell? What's the matter with you tonight?" Sam snorted as he passed Leylaani at towel.

"Sorry, slipped out of my hand;" Bobby replied sheepishly. He was bemused, frustrated, relieved; he didn't know what to think about Leylaani's calm reaction.

Dean glared at Bobby; "you okay?" he asked Leylaani.

"I'm fine," she smiled; "It's okay Dean, your stepfather's just worried about you. I'd better get out of your way." She handed the damp towel back to Sam; "I'll drop by later to see if you're feeling better."

"Yeah, bye Leylaani." Dean murmured through a droopy smile, "thanks for comin' to see me."

She left with a little wave, and the three men watched as the door clicked closed behind her.

Dean immediately turned on Bobby; "what was all that about? she was only trying to help," he snorted angrily, irritably shrugging Sam's comforting hand from his shoulder.

"I thought … I was worried, an' I … oh crap," Bobby stammered helplessly, holding out the medicine to Sam.

Dean turned over with a scowl and closed his eyes; "bite me," he grumbled.

Bobby looked at the empty glass in his hand, then up at Sam who took the pink bottle and shrugged with a 'what did you expect' expression on his face.

xxxxx

It was mid-morning and Dean was feeling a little better. Not feeling like he was about to hurl every five minutes and not feeling like his guts were trying to wring themselves out had lifted his mood enormously, and even the crushing exhaustion that was all that was left of his traumatic night hadn't deterred him from hauling his pallid carcass out of bed and retiring to his beloved balcony for what he hioped would be a brief convalescence.

He sat in a companionable silence with Sam, timidly sipping water and cringing as his tender stomach gurgled menacingly in protest.

After his bizarre exploits in the small hours of the morning, Bobby was wilting under the atmosphere in the room and decided to head down into the resort to pick up some bottled water.

After a brief, friendly chat with Des, he turned, armed with three bottles of water, and headed back to the room. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a voice.

"Mr Singer?"

He spun round to see Leylaani standing nervously before him.

"How's Dean?"

Bobby eyed her warily; "better," he grunted economically, giving nothing away.

The two stared at each other; Bobby wasn't going to apologise; he still wasn't convinced about this woman, there was something about her that was making his antennae twitch wildly.

"I get it now," she smiled; "I get why you were so hostile towards me last night."

Bobby shuffled awkwardly, "oh yeah?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

"You think it's me, that's it, isn't it?" She shook her head with a smile; "you think I'm the succubus."

Bobby almost choked on his tongue.

"What the … how do you …?" He could feel the bottles slipping out of his grip as his eyes darted around the resort, his mind whirling in confusion and alarm. Who else would know there was a succubus in the prowl, except the bitch herself?

"You're a hunter," she smiled calmly, "only a hunter who knew there was a succubus at large would be throwing holy water around."

Bobby opened his mouth but no words came out, "h-how … what the hell …?"

Turning casually, she threaded her thumb into the waistband of her jeans, pulling it down to reveal the top half of a smooth, perfectly rounded butt-cheek.

Bobby spluttered, feeling a hot blush rising across his face, but aside from the fact that he couldn't remember how long it had been since a beautiful young woman bared her bottom in front of him, the sight that really took his breath away was a familiar circular tattoo.

"I know all about hunters Mr Singer … because I am one."

Bobby stared at her stunned into helpless silence.

"And it seems that you and I have a common aim, Mr Singer;" she tugged her jeans back up and turned to face Bobby, folding her arms; "to protect your stepsons."

xxxxx

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

Bobby opened his mouth weakly to respond but no sound came out. He stared at the exquisitely delicate young woman. Hunter? His mind couldn't process the information.

Leylaani smiled, "shall we sit?"

She led Bobby by the forearm over to a table in front of the dining area and waved across at Des behind the bar. He nodded a cheerful acknowledgement.

Leylaani sat down and smiled gently at the shocked man who stared back at her from across the table. Eventually his brain began to re-engage and he slowly regained the power of speech.

"So how, I mean - why… ?"

She cocked her head curiously.

"Why am I here? How do I know there's a succubus?" she asked.

Bobby nodded mutely.

"How much do you know about this job?" She began.

Bobby shook his head, both to indicate a negative answer and to clear his thoughts. "Not as much as I would like," he replied; "I looked through a load of news articles an' stuff, but I only got this damn thing," Bobby fumbled in his pocket for his Blackberry; "I can hardly see the damn words on that pansy-ass little screen."

Leylaani smiled, "so you know there have been three deaths at this resort?"

"Yeah," Bobby nodded.

"Did you know there were four more deaths at another resort before it began at Mau Loa?

Bobby's eyes widened; "the hell …?"

She nodded; "I've been tracking this thing since the second death when I realised what it was, but the bitch has always kept one step ahead of me."

"Why's she huntin' at holiday resorts?" Bobby asked.

"Think about it Mr Sing … Bobby?" she hesitated, looking up at Bobby, and he smiled with a nod. He liked the sound of his name on the lovely young woman's lips; "a holiday resort. A supply of young, fit males, all showing off their charms by wearing very little clothing, packing their inhibitions away for a couple of weeks …"

Bobby considered her words and nodded in agreement; "it's like a succubus 'all you can eat' buffet …"

"Their usual M.O. is to go after sleeping men," Leylaani continued, "that's why the majority of their victims are found in bed; they charm them into a dream like state so the guys are completely compliant, then the succubus can take her time … savour her meal."

"The vics that are awake have to be physically subdued before she can have her wicked way; makes it harder work," Leylaani explained.

Bobby nodded an understanding; "that would explain the bruises on the guy that was found in the car, but not on the two guys in their beds."

Leylaani nodded; "I couldn't get close enough to find out much when I realised what was going on at the other resort. I managed to sneak into the resort pretending to be a guest from time to time, but not enough to make any headway," she sighed; "when I realised she'd moved on and was at Mau Loa, I decided to try to get a job here, seemed like the best way to get up close and personal. "

Bobby shrugged; "sounds reasonable," he grunted.

"I started about six weeks ago as a waitress," Leylaani explained; "unfortunately not in time to prevent the second death."

"What about the third one," asked Bobby.

Leylaani looked downcast; "it was terribly sad," she sighed, "he was a guest, a lovely young guy called Michael." She hesitated for a moment; "a couple of hours before he died, our hostess collapsed; she was rushed to hospital, and is still too sick to come back. That's how I got this job."

Bobby remained silent, he knew there was more to come.

"I think it was caused by the succubus leaving her body to go to Michael."

"I ain't had much dealin's with succubi," admitted Bobby; "but ya right, they possess people the same way ordinary demons do, but they gotta be in spiritual form to do their 'thing'."

He hesitated a moment; "have you got an exorcism for it?"

Leylaani gave a knowing smile, "I've got better than that," glancing timidly around herself, she leaned forward, as if about to impart an important secret; "the lore says you can kill a succubus by stabbing her with a blade tainted with the blood of a female virgin."

Bobby's face dropped; "oh great; how the hell are we going to get our hands on that?"

Leylaani cleared her throat and averted her eyes, fiddling awkwardly with the pink hibiscus flower in her hair.

"Oh;" Bobby felt himself blush again.

"I made the choice a few years ago; I decided I want to give myself pure in body and soul to someone who deserves it, someone who would be the love of my life," she stated quietly, studying the table top, not quite believing she was having this conversation with a man who was little more than a stranger; "when I find him," she added with a wry smile.

"Well, whoever earns that right - and he'd better work friggin' hard to earn it - he's a real lucky guy;" Bobby smiled warmly, patting her hand reassuringly, "you're an amazin' young woman!"

"Anyway, "Leylaani perked up; "the complication we have is that a succubus is only corporeal, that is able to be stabbed, when she's feeding."

"Crap!"

She nodded, "that about sums it up," adding, "from what I've read, I think we'll have less than thirty seconds from the moment she sees us before she's able to transform back to a spiritual state. Then we've lost her, probably for good."

Bobby sighed; swift, reflexive movements weren't exactly his strong suit at the moment.

xxxxx

"I think we need to be on high alert;" Leylaani jolted him out of his musings, "I'm worried about your boys, but particularly Dean."

"Why?" Bobby enquired.

"Two reasons," she answered confidently, "a succubus is a fussy eater, and she will seek out men who are - shall we say - 'red-blooded' enough to satisfy her."

She could see Bobby pondering on her words; "Sam is very sweet and totally adorable, but he's shy and respectful - I think she would find him too tame." Her face lifted into a smile; "Dean on the other hand has no shame; he would charm her out of her demonic panties within minutes."

Bobby laughed, "you're not wrong!"

"Also," she added, "have you seen pictures of her victims?"

"Only the last three," Bobby replied.

"Well, Bobby, our succubus clearly has a 'type'," she explained; "six of her seven victims; muscular blond men."

Bobby jolted, he hadn't made that connection; "so basically, we've got to wait until the bitch has got her hooks into someone before we can act."

Leylaani shrugged; "I don't see that we have a choice."

"Well, it ain't gonna be my boys," he growled.

Bobby couldn't believe how he was bonding with Leylaani. She had trusted him enough to bare her soul to him, and he felt inclined to do the same for her.

"You know, the life those boys have had would make a hard man weep," he began; "The crap they've had to deal with is more than the average Joe could even have nightmares about."

"They're hunters too," he explained quietly; "but I haven't told them about the succubus or my research, because I want them so much to be able to have a vacation without worrying about any of this shit."

A smile crossed his face. "Dean's never had a vacation before. Leylaani, you should see him, he's like a six year old on a sugar rush, I've never seen him so happy, or smiling so much as he's done since he's been here." He took a deep breath; "telling them about the succubus will end all that, it just becomes another job;" he looked at the sympathetically smiling woman opposite him; "I can't do that to them."

"I understand, Bobby, really I do; but I really think they need the chance to defend themselves from an attack. You can't be with them every moment of every day."

Bobby sighed. She was right, of course she was; Bobby knew it and he hated it.

xxxxx

They both turned on hearing footsteps approach, and saw Sam walking towards them.

"Hey Leylaani, hey Bobby, what happened to that water you were supposed to be fetching?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh crap, sorry Sam, got sidetracked;" he rose to his feet, gesturing towards the three abandoned bottles of water on the floor beside him.

Sam stood and stared quizzically at the pair. Less than twelve hours ago, Bobby was acting like he couldn't stand the sight of Leylaani, and now, here they were cosying up like BFF's. He shook his head with an exasperated sigh.

"How's Dean?" Leylaani asked sweetly.

"He's much better, thanks; just tired, so I left him up in the room having a nap on my bed;" he grinned broadly, "I reckon he'll be fine, back to his usual self by tonight - God help us!"

If he was expecting a humorous remark about Dean's endless reserves of enthusiasm, Sam was taken aback by Bobby's response.

"You left ya brother on his own?" Bobby's eyes widened in horror.

"Hey chill," Sam smiled, "there's only so much damage the great lunk can do to himself while he's asleep," Sam chuckled, "I was bored sitting in the room with nothing to listen to but him snoring, so I thought I'd come and check you hadn't fallen down the well fetching the water …"

"Sorry Sam," Bobby clumsily gathered the bottles up, "I've got the water, I'm on my way."

Leylaani rose, patting Bobby's shoulder; "I have to get back to work Bobby, I'll see you around;" She turned towards the bar and glanced back at Sam as she spoke.

Bobby knew her look said 'it's up to you whether you tell them.'

He grabbed Sam by the arm, and strode off towards the room, dragging the bemused man along behind him; "come on Sam, lets go an' check Dean's okay."

They both turned back on hearing an anguished cry behind them; "Oh God, Bobby …"

They turned to see Leylaani crouching beside Des' crumpled form on the ground behind the bar.

"It's Des, he's collapsed!"

The three long awaited bottles of water crashed to the ground.

xxxxx

Hungry eyes stared across the airy room at the rumpled bed, moreso the sleeping figure that lay within it. Bathed in a shaft of late morning sunlight, there was a dreamy, ethereal quality about the sleeping form.

She inhaled deeply of the faintest musk of sweat which hung in the air even though her prey was clean and refreshed after a recent shower.

Nestled into the deepest of sleeps, his restful state wiped a decade from his face; he looked content, comfortable and utterly at peace.

Watching intently, she relished the soft, slow breaths which escaped through slightly parted lips, each gentle breath driving the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad, solid chest.

Her eager eyes lingered, savouring every detail of the exquisite form in front of her; his unkempt, slightly shower damp dark blond hair, his long dark lashes which fluttered imperceptibly as the REM phase of sleep worked it's healing magic on his recovering body, the sharp lines of his newly shaven jaw line, the curve of his strong neck and the intensely inviting hollows above his collarbones. She licked her dry lips, sucking in a long appreciative breath.

The fair, slightly tanned tint of his bare torso turned her mind to honey; softly, sweetly golden and her body ached to taste it.

This was the one; this was the one that would make everything worthwhile. Ever since she realised there was a hunter at the resort all those weeks ago she had been hiding, reduced to possessing that ridiculous balding, middle-aged man. A poor accommodation for one so noble as her.

But it was necessary, the hunter, whoever they were, would be looking for a pretty young woman, as long as Des stood behind his bar pouring that swill he calls coffee and talking trite garbage about the weather, the sport results and how terrible the deaths had been, no-one in the world would suspect her.

A succubus needed to feed, and she had been on the point of giving up on this resort, and moving on to find better pickings, but she knew this was the one from the moment she saw him; he would be a sumptuous feast indeed.

She felt her heart lurch with longing as he shifted, burrowing his powerful shoulders into the pillow with a long sigh. She smiled, watching them bunch and flex as he shifted again, his long legs moving slowly beneath the thin white sheet which lay tangled around them.

He settled with a long sigh, which she heard herself echo.

Yes, he had been sick and, as a result would be slightly weakened, but even in that condition he would be stronger, more potent than any of her prey so far.

And he was alone; she would not get a better opportunity than this.

The powerful, flawless body would be hers, and the strong, pure spirit that filled it would feed her desire beyond satisfaction.

She took a step towards the bed.

Xxxxx

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The creature homes in on Dean. Not that he actually seems to mind …
> 
> Lots of sauce in this chapter - well, c'mon, it's a succubus, what did you expect?

Leylaani frantically dialled 911, watching as the two hunters abandoned Bobby's shattered water bottles, turning without hesitation to run toward the hotel.

She screamed across at a young waitress who had ambled casually past the bar, dragging her behind the bar and ordering her to stay with Des until the ambulance arrived.

Crouching beside Des' still form, the waitress watched bewildered as Leylaani dashed away, grabbing a fruit knife and yelling about another emergency she had to deal with.

Sam and Bobby couldn't deal with this without her.

What the waitress didn't see was the deep gash Leylaani carved across her palm as she ran. She didn't even flinch; this bitch was hers.

xxxxx

"Bobby are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" Sam gasped as he tore across the resort, dragged along in Bobby's slipstream.

How the hell could a man of Bobby's age possibly move so damn fast? Bad back? You're kidding, it was like the guy suddenly had a rocket pack implanted up his ass,

Sam let out a yelp as his unco-ordinated feet tangled round the leg of a bench and he stumbled, almost faceplanting across the terrace. Stopping momentarily, Bobby turned to drag Sam to his feet.

"It's a succubus," Bobby snorted breathlessly; "I ain't got time to do this now, I'm sorry Sam – you gotta trust me here, but there a succubus at the resort an' right now Dean's in real bad danger."

Sam's eyes widened in horror as he scrambled to his feet and the two men took off again towards the main building.

Neither heard Leylaani's dainty sandals pit-pattering swiftly after them.

xxxxx

The first thing Dean became vaguely aware of through a fog of deliciously restful slumber was a warm, gentle hand touching the side of his face.

"Who's… ere?" he murmured softly, his speech faintly slurred by the deepest of sleeps.

Velvety soft lips that he couldn't see touched his with the daintiest of kisses, and warm, fragrant breath ghosted over his ear as a lilting female voice responded quietly; "someone who loves you Dean; loves you very, very much."

He shifted under the thin white sheet with a sigh; "hmmmmm … 'laani ?"

Another softly tender kiss against his earlobe led to a series of warm, lingering kisses that travelled down the side of his neck. "Surrender to me. Let me love you;" the silky voice whispered it's soothing and gentle reassurance, a balm which was pulling Dean further and deeper into a blissful rest from which she intended he would never awake.

Shifting again, Dean's head canted slowly toward the honey-sweet voice. His arms reached upwards, groping blindly to embrace the source of the voice as his back arched slowly under the loving, tantalising touch that he could feel so intensely, so magically, but not see.

He felt the mattress sink slightly as a cool body lowered itself onto the bed beside him, leaning down over him as it traced unseen fingertips along his collarbones. "You like that don't you, Dean," she purred, her lips barely an inch from Dean's cheek, "you would like more, wouldn't you?" she teased, "much more."

"Uh-huh…" he nodded helplessly, his breath hitching and catching in his throat with a small hiccup as those unseen hands began to dance across his chest, caressing and stroking until he was shivering with overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes, Dean," she smiled a predatory smile, "let me please you; let me show you how much you are loved…"

xxxxx

"A succubus? How did you find out about this? why the hell didn't you tell us?" Sam yelled after Bobby; "tell ya later," panted Bobby breathlessly as they thundered along the corridor toward the elevator, with Leylaani bringing up the rear.

"I'll explain everything Sam, but we gotta get to Dean before this creepy bitch does."

xxxxx

Dean was beginning to pant harshly, his head rocking weakly from side to side as his every nerve fired and throbbed with pleasure under the succubus' skilful touch. Kneading and stroking, her touch was sending paroxysms of euphoric intensity through his body, making him writhe and buck, utterly lost in a dreamy swirling fog of blissful pleasure.

His head bent back against the bed as his body arched and squirmed in ecstasy; his moans rising into a hoarse cry as the soft lips pecked their way along his jaw line, the unseen hands tracing circles of tantalising fire across his sweat-slicked skin. He felt the slippery warmth of her silk gown brush over him as her insubstantial weight bore down on him, closer and closer until she was wrapped around him like a second skin.

Those same soft hands cupped his face as her lips clamped over his in an aggressively passionate kiss; he reciprocated compliantly, feeling himself drifting, floating giddily as he began to struggle for air. But he didn't care.

He had lost the power to hear the woman's voice, he had lost the power of speech; one by one his senses were abandoning him; he couldn't think, all he could do was feel. His body was slowly succumbing and reacting to the beautiful, excruciating pleasure; and it was glorious.

xxxxx

It was therefore unsurprising that Dean didn't hear the crash as the door was flung open, but his seducer certainly did.

Leaping to her feet, she spun violently round in the direction of the intrusion, her flame red hair whipping about her pale face like a halo of fire, when the two men dashed into the room.

Sam and Bobby stopped dead in their tracks, staring in horror at the menacing beauty of the creature that crouched, hissing like a tomcat, beside the bed; leaving her helpless prey sinking bonelessly into the mattress.

If they were shocked by the sight of the succubus that confronted them, they were totally stunned into mute astonishment when Leylaani's tiny form charged into the room between the two men, barging them both aside. Her pretty face was contorted into a grotesque mask of rage, as she let out a terrifying banshee shriek and launched herself bodily at the astounded creature clutching a bloodstained knife in her bleeding hand.

The hunter and the succubus tumbled back onto the bed, sprawling across the unconscious figure within it as they grappled viciously. Leylaani, knowing she had mere seconds in which to act, clamped a hand over the creature's face, pushing it's head hard firmly into the mattress, plunging the knife hard and without hesitation into the long, ivory pale neck

Bobby and Sam stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at the scene.

"Remind me never to annoy this girl …" Sam mumbled blankly.

xxxxx

The succubus let out an agonised, gurgling hiss, her convulsing body flickering and crackling as she faded from her solid form to a barely visible swirling cloud of silver ash which suddenly and violently dispersed, settling softly over the room as a film of harmless dust, leaving Leylaani slumped, breathless with shock, face down on the bed, sprawled untidily across it's sleeping and blissfully oblivious occupant.

An occupant who at that precise moment in time awoke blearily from the most intense and deliciously vivid dream he had ever experienced, blinking vacantly to focus his swimming vision. He froze mid yawn as his heavy-lidded eyes latched onto the glistening chocolate brown of Leylaani's eyes hovering inches away from his own.

They stared at each other for a curiously uncomfortable moment until Dean broke the silence.

"Um, hello …"

Leylaani smiled coyly, trying to look as casually nonchalant as it was possible to look when sprawled across someone's sweaty, near naked body feeling your own body pulsating from the pounding of their racing heartbeat and trying desperately to ignore the fact that there is something very hard and very prominent poking into your right hip.

Okay, this was awkward!

Dean cleared his throat loudly, feeling a warm blush blossom across his face; "uh; I don't know what was in that pink stuff you brought me last night;" he croaked, "but it was freakin' awesome!"

xxxxx


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dean would so eloquently put it, "... awk-ward"

Leylaani giggled nervously; "um; I … er … I just dropped by to see how you were doing and I … uh … slipped on the … um … sheet …" she stammered, her voice trailing off when she realised it was probably the stupidest excuse for ending up in a compromising position that had ever been made in the history of embarrassing situations; "I'll just … uh, you know …" she gestured toward the other side of the room, and moved to climb off the bed.

Dean gently grasped her wrist and stopped her.

"You've hurt yourself;" his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed smears of blood on his chest, and realised the source of the blood was not him, but Leylaani. He picked up her bleeding hand and inspected it closely.

She glanced across at Bobby who stood rooted to the spot, his eyes pleading with her not to come clean; "oh, it's nothing;" she lied unconvincingly, "I cut it on some broken glass in the bar earlier; I thought it had stopped bleeding."

Dean's large hand enveloped hers with consummate care; "we've got some antiseptic in the bathroom, let's go an' clean it up for y …"

Pausing, his words faded into silence as he glanced up over Leylaani's shoulder to see two familiar and concerned faces looking down on him from the side of the bed.

"You okay dude?" Sam asked awkwardly with a little shrug.

"Uh; can't a guy get a bit o' freakin' privacy?" Dean hissed between clenched teeth, folding long arms protectively across Leylaani's back, preventing her second attempt at climbing off the bed. He gestured toward the door with his head.

The meaning wasn't lost on Sam and Bobby; "Uh, sounds like he's doin' okay," Bobby muttered, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him rapidly out of the room, making a point of kicking Leylaani's discarded knife under the bed where Dean wouldn't see it; "we'll see ya downstairs Dean;" he called back after himself; "when ya ready!"

xxxxx

Leylaani smiled, "it's nothing, honestly; there's a first aid kit behind the bar, I can take care of it there," she smiled; "but I really need to get back downstairs, poor Des has been taken very ill and the ambulance should be arriving any time."

Dean nodded with a forced smile and reluctantly let go, allowing Leylaani to clamber off the bed.

Suddenly feeling very exposed and embarrassed, he became aware of noticeable and unrequited stirrings beneath the sheet and blushed furiously as he untangled the thin sheet which was knotted around his legs and gathered it up into his lap.

"Uh yeah, uh, you better get down an' see Des is okay, poor guy." He hesitated, squirming as a slightly pained expression crossed his face; "I … um … think I need to take a shower."

He cleared his throat loudly, smiling weakly at Leylaani.

"A cold one," he muttered.

Clumsily wrapping the sheet loosely around his hips, he climbed out of the bed and stumbled stiff-legged toward the bathroom.

"I'm so glad you're better Dean," Leylaani smiled hesitantly, clearly reluctant to leave; "I really have to get back to work now."

She stood up on tiptoe and planted a friendly peck on Dean's cheek before scampering out of the room with a small wave.

Dean stood in silence, blinking blearily and scratching his head. He watched her go with a long sigh; "way to go, Winchester, you really made a big impression there, moron!"

Glaring down at the rumpled sheet wrapped loosely around his hips, he pulled on the waistband of his boxers on order to try to rearrange himself; "an' you didn't friggin' help either!"

It was only seconds later when her head reappeared round the door frame.

"But I get off at six …"

Dean's smile illuminated the room.

xxxxx

Sam and Bobby sat talking by the pool and watching as Leylaani calmly and sensitively oversaw the sterling work of the paramedics as they treated Des.

Bobby felt bad; if Des hadn't suffered like this, they would never have known the succubus was ready to pounce. Dean owed his life to the fact that Des was being loaded unconscious into the back of an ambulance.

He sighed as they watched the ambulance set off. He couldn't be more relieved that Dean was alive and well and seemingly unaffected by his close encounter. He just wished it could have happened some other way.

Even Leylaani's brief reassurance that although he was in a bad way the paramedics had been optimistic, didn't really go a long way towards salving Bobby's conscience.

He hesitated, lost in thought for a moment as he watched the back of the ambulance disappear around the buildings, then yanked his derailed train of thought back on track. He turned back to Sam, continuing their conversation; "an' so that's why I didn't tell ya son; I was just so desperate that you should enjoy this vacation."

He couldn't read Sam's expression. "I'm sorry Sam, it was a crap decision; I put you and Dean at risk an' I can't believe I did it. I must be goin' friggin' soft, but I jus' wanted you to have the best two weeks ever, an' not to have to worry about anything."

"You're right, Bobby, it was a crap decision, you could have got hurt;" replied Sam, taking a sip from his beer, "but you know what? It's the nicest thing that anyone's ever done for us, thank you."

He smiled warmly as Bobby visibly relaxed.

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, nodding their thanks to the waitress, still disturbed from the mornings events, who scurried over with another two cold beers.

"Anyway, the succubus is dead;" Sam announced, thinking aloud, "and Dean didn't know about her, he just thought he was having some kind of ultra-pervy dream."  
"I guess so," replied Bobby a stray smile creeping across his face as he thought back to the look on Dean's shocked face when he woke up overwrought and under Leylaani.

They sat in silence for another moment.

"Does he need to know?" Sam asked out of the blue.

Bobby looked up, thought for a moment, and his smile broadened; "nope, I don't suppose he does," he replied keenly.

The two men clinked their glasses in an unspoken agreement, and Sam took a long draught of his beer, spending a blissful moment savouring the icy bite.

A moment which was all too rudely interrupted when he received a hearty smack round the back of the head from Danno the Dolphin; he lurched forward in shock, spitting beer far enough to spray Bobby, further traumatising the passing waitress, and doubled over into a violent coughing fit.

"C'mon Samantha," goaded Dean, bristling with renewed vigour after his recent setback; "get your shorts on an' get your ass in this pool," he demanded, hopping in explosive excitement and seemingly unconcerned by Sam's red face and choking gasps borne of a windpipe full of Corona.

Whipping a towel from round his neck, Dean dumped it unceremoniously on the middle of the table between Sam and Bobby in the puddle caused by Sam's spilt beer. His pale yellow polo shirt was tugged off over his head, and dumped on top of it, followed by his sunglasses, another smaller towel, Danno, his phone and a pair of flip-flops.

Bobby sat stunned into silence, peering over the growing mound of accessories piling up on the table as their peace was shattered by the coming of this small seismic event in stars and stripes swimming shorts.

Dean squirted a blob of sunscreen into his hand and threw the bottle over to Sam who caught it despite his watering eyes.

"C'mon bitch, do my back;" he snorted, impatiently slapping the cool lotion over his chest and shoulders.

Obediently doing as he was bidden, Sam carefully coated Dean's broad back in sunscreen, ignoring his brother's testy squirming, and colourful encouragements to 'get on with it', and was rewarded by a punch in the shoulder; "c'mon Sammy, last one in the pool's a big girl with a hormone imbalance," he paused briefly; "oh you are anyway, so it doesn't matter!"

Without another word, he grabbed Danno by the beak, and charged, leaping headlong into the pool with a hoot of delight.

Bobby let out the breath he was holding and stared over the pile of discarded effects at Sam, a smile spreading across his shell-shocked face.

"Looks like normal service is resumed;" he sighed, "God help us all!"

xxxxx

tbc


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's thinking ahead, but not too far. Dean's having trouble thinking at all.

The excitement of the succubus visit and all it's associated dramas over, Bobby and the boys settled into a degree of routine.

Each morning Sam opened his eyes and glanced across the room to find Dean's bed vacated, a crumpled meringue of duvet discarded on the floor beside it, and his brother sitting out on his balcony, a condensation-beaded glass of juice in his hand, gazing out across the ocean. Sam knew Dean, not content with satisfying his long-held wish to watch the sun set across the ocean had taken to sneaking out in the wee small hours of the morning to sit and watch the sun rise there too.

Having given up trying to coax Dean back into bed, Sam left him alone to enjoy his precious moments of reflection amongst the sweet fragrances of blossom floating across the morning breeze and the fresh virgin rays of the emerging sun.

This particular morning, however, Sam decided to abandon the delicious comfort of his bed and joined Dean on the balcony. Pulling up a chair, Dean acknowledged his brother's presence with a welcoming smile and then turned back to his sunrise.

Not a word was spoken between the two as they sat and watched the hazy morning sun illuminate the horizon inch by inch, until the whole vista was sparkling with a limpid dawn light.

Sam knew that Dean was in his hyperactive element goofing off in the sea or the pool, especially so when he was busy finding boundlessly inventive ways of tormenting Bobby and Sam. He could also see the joy exuding from Dean during the couple of hours each evening that he had taken to disappearing for long walks along the beach with the lovely Leylaani.

But Sam had never seen him look more at peace and blissfully contented as he was whenever he was sitting on his balcony with the distant song of the ocean soothing his soul.

It was an expression of sublime happiness Sam saw tragically rarely on his brother's face and the sight was so heartwarming that he found himself hopelessly unable to hide his broad smile.

He didn't notice the sideways glance accompanied by the exasperated eye-roll that Dean cast in his direction.

"You got gas or something'?" he grunted towards Sam without taking his eyes from the view.

How to spoil a moment.

xxxxx

It is one of the saddest facts of life that all good things must come to an end, and it was with a brief flash of regret which spidered icily across the pit of Sam's stomach that he realised today marked the halfway point in their vacation.

As of bedtime tonight there was less time to go than had already been.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed back the gnawing heartache, trying his damndest to disregard it, even though a large part of him knew that it would grow and deepen as each day went on.

Was Dean dwelling on it too? It was hard to tell by looking at him; a picture of composure with a glass of grapefruit juice in his hand and an inflatable dolphin at his feet. Dean wouldn't spill, even if his heart was breaking.

Sam decided there and then that he would do everything in his power to make sure Dean's remaining week in paradise wasn't tainted by depressing thoughts of crap motels, of ugliness, of bad food, and of evil, danger and pain. Of their real life.

He would work his ass off to keep Dean distracted.

xxxxx

"Hey Dean, have you seen this?"

Dean picked up Danno, ignoring his brother, and looked deeply into the plastic creature's bug eyes.

"I don't know Danno? What do you think, have we seen it?"

"I'm talking about this, jerk;" Sam slapped his brother across the head with the leaflet he was holding.

"This resort has a health spa."

Dean afforded Sam a cursory glance from his seat beside Danno the dolphin on the end of Bobby's bed.

"A health spa?"

"Yeah, you know; sauna jacuzzi, steam room …" Sam hesitated, to see if he was making inroads; "masseuse …"

"Masseuse?"

"Yeah."

"That's the girl one, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

Dean tossed the leaflet back onto Bobby's bed and leapt to his feet; "c'mon Sam, let's go."

The two made their way to the door; "hey Danno, look after Bobby, 'cause he's real old," Dean shouted back to his dolphin who sat on Bobby's unmade bed dressed in the older man's cap and sunglasses.

"Shut ya great flappin' piehole, ya friggin' idjit;" came a hollow reply from behind the locked bathroom door.

xxxxx

"What time's my massage?"

Sam leaned back against the side of the hot tub sighing as the hot water pounded his back. He responded to his brother's question without moving or opening his eyes.

"Dean, it's five minutes since you last asked me, so work it out!"

Dean frowned; "ooh, beam me up Snotty." He wormed further down into the water, grinning at Sam and relishing the warm flutter of the bubbling water around his shoulders.

"Hey Sam ..."

Sam cracked open an eye and saw the mischevious grin across his brothers face that he just knew was going to precede some kind of infantile comment.

He sighed.

"Dude, you do know 'fart jokes' are just about the most predictable, unfunny thing anyone can come out with while sitting in a Jacuzzi?"

Dean's grin morphed into a smirk. "Oh yeah?"

He sidled up to Sam and let rip as spectacularly as he could manage without risking some kind of intestinal rupture.

"Jus' thought I'd treat you to a few extra bubbles bro'."

Sam cringed as he felt the hot bubbles tickle their way up his back.

"You're a pig!"

Dean grinned again; "and relaxed, letting his head drop back against the jacuzzi's edge with a soft, wet 'thunk'. "It's been said;" he agreed with a broad smile, arching his back into a long stretch.

Sam reached across under the water and pinched a clump of hair on Dean's thigh, giving it a sharp tug.

"GAAAAH!" Dean almost leapt out of the tub.

Now it was Sam's turn to grin.

"What are you, bitch? Seven?" Dean snorted, wiping his wet face, and squirming away as Sam made a menacing grab towards a stray clump of armpit hair.

"Geddof, you perv …" Dean yelped irritably.

Trying to land a petulant punch on Sam's shoulder, Dean suddenly found himself submerged when Sam lunged toward him, and the two fell brawling and flailing wildly into the middle of the hot tub, their faces popping up and gasping for air occasionally, as the water crashed and plunged, foaming around their grappling bodies.

Eventually both clambered back up onto the seats around the half-drained hot tub, panting and wiping their eyes, giggling like a pair of schoolgirls.

"I though you were supposed to relax in these things," gasped Sam, suppressing a chuckle.

They both slumped back against the sides of the tub, smiling broadly, and there followed a long silence, punctuated only by deep gaspng breaths before Dean spoke up.

"Hey Sam?"

"What?"

"What time's my massage?"

xxxxx

Sandy was tall and thin, and pale in just about every way it was possible to be pale, from her long, neatly tied back, ivory blond hair to her pallid face and ice-blue eyes. She wasn't exactly what Dean would describe as his 'type' but she was kind of attractive in a bloodless sort of way.

What she lacked in boldness of appearance, she more than made up for with a sweet nature, long nimble fingers and a grip that could crack a coconut.

Within minutes those elegant, skilful hands had rendered her latest client helpless.

Dean inhaled deeply of the scents of pine and sandalwood, his eyes drooping closed as he pondered vacantly that he must remember to thank Sam for telling him about this place … he just had to regain the power of speech first, given that his mind had taken a leave of absence.

Above him, Sandy's expert hands roamed over his bare back, each firm sweep of the warm oiled palms driving him further and further away from anything approaching a state of alertness. This wasn't good; Sam was gonna be carrying him back to the room in a bucket before this hour was up.

The manicured fingertips skilfully explored the ridges of his spine, pausing briefly, as his back rose around a deep sigh, they returned to their work, massaging the muscular junction of his neck and shoulders, and carding through the short, spiky hair at his nape.

Dean was skirting the edge of sleep; consciousness drifting further and further away from him, and he had absolutely no desire to chase after it. He was way too busy loving those busy, soothing hands and their deliciously relaxing touch.

Every now and again those searching fingertips would find a knot, or a spot of tension, buried deep in some slab of muscle across his shoulders, or down his spine, and they would gleefully pounce, drilling into it with the force of a piledriver, pulverizing it out of existence.

Every time they did, Dean's poor, boneless body would make a feeble attempt to react until even that became too much effort, and all he could do was let out a breathless moan into he crook of his elbow.

But it was a good pain; all that cracking and crunching and creaking meant that something good must be happening to his poor wrecked body. Either that or he was just going to fall apart and crumble into tiny pieces but, either way, he was just too droopy to care, so that was cool too.

In some remote and tiny corner of his mind that was still just about managing to operate at a level above basic motor functions, he figured his massage must be almost done. Sandy had said something about letting him rest for a couple of minutes and wandered off, leaving him covered up by a soft blanket, alone and helpless in a semi-liquid state listening to a CD of birdsong and wind chimes.

He was slightly surprised therefore, but in no way disappointed, when a pair of soft warm hands once again cupped his shoulders, and began to knead rhythmic circles down his back. This touch seemed different, but no less pleasant, and it was only when the hands worked their way back up to his shoulders and began to work their way along his biceps, he realized that these hands weren't the long pale ones that had been working their magic on him for the past hour; they were the colour of a rich warm mocha, impossibly delicate against his long, solid arms and one of them bore a small bandage.

Dean blinked blearily as he attempted to gather his scattered wits, and glanced up, his unfocussed gaze meeting familiar chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey Dean;" Leylaani smiled at the slightly cross-eyed pile of jello beneath her hands; "I was going to invite you to lunch, but I think I might struggle to carry you out of here!"

xxxxx

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun on the beach ... and that's about all, really.

Bobby snorted softly from under the shade of his tipped cap as he dozed under the late afternoon sun, his arm dangling limply at his side, fingertips brushing an empty Corona bottle; John Grisham's latest best-seller laying face-down across his slowly rising and falling chest.

The rhythmic ebb and flow of the sea, softened into a lullaby by the warm breeze, played a whispering backbeat to his quietly contented snores.

Bobby could get used to this life.

It was almost painfully hard work for him to open his eyes when the shriek of a petrel passing overhead jolted him back into a degree of consciousness.

He yawned wearily, stretching as far as his fragile back would allow, then settled comfortably back into the lounger. He was about to pick up his book and reaquaint himself with the absorbing words of Mr Grisham when a distant snort of laughter distracted him.

Bobby was a man who was hard to shock. He had seen a whole lot of weird, freaky and downright disturbing crap; spirits, imps, demons, talking animals, vampires, two-headed creatures, no-headed creatures. Bobby had seen it all and wasn't surprised or impressed by any of it.

But the sight a little way ahead of him of two grown men building a sandcastle had him blinking through the dazzling sunlight and rubbing his eyes in amused disbelief.

xxxxx

The brothers knelt either side of the impressive structure they had spent the afternoon lovingly constructing.

It boasted four hefty crenellated walls, topped with carefully crafted ramparts, enclosing a large central keep complete with arrow slits. Low bastion towers adorned the castle's four corners and Sam was in the process of crafting a tall tower midway along the east wall.

He was watched by a simmering pair of green eyes peering disapprovingly from under an irritably knotted brow.

"You wouldn't put a lookout tower on the east side, dumbass; that's the side sloping down to the sea."

Sam shrugged; "and?"

Dean huffed in exasperation; "well, you put the lookout tower on the highest side; the side sloping up the beach, you friggin' cretin."

"Why?"

"Jeez Sam;" Dean groaned; "how the heck can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?" he threw his hands up in surrender; "Your tower needs to look out from the highest point of the castle so that you can get plenty of warning of invaders."

There was a brief pause as Sam looked down at the wad of damp sand in his hands.

"Dean, it's a sandcastle."

Dean bristled; "yeah … and your point is?"

"Well who's gonna invade it?" Sam enquired calmly; "the massed ranks of the commando molluscs? A horde of marauding limpets?"

Dean snorted irritably, seemingly unimpressed by his brother's knowledge of marine life; "stow the smartass comments bitch, I'm tryin' to educate your geeky, useless ass."

"Well, I want to put it here," announced Sam, gathering up another handful of damp sand and planting it firmly on the castle's east side, "it looks nice."

There came a long sigh as Dean rolled his eyes; "I'm trying to build an impenetrable fortress to protect us against the forces of evil here, and you're going all friggin' 'homes and gardens' on me;" he curled his lip at the tall structure evolving beneath Sam's careful hands.

"You gonna run up a pair of drapes for it?"

Sam briefly glanced up from his careful labours. "Stop your whining jerk, and start digging the moat."

"Why have I got to dig the moat?" Dean snorted, "that's peasants' work."

Sam cocked an eyebrow in his brother's direction and gave a knowing smile. "You said it, peasant," he grinned.

They both looked up as a shadow loomed over them.

"Am I interruptin' something?"

Dean wiped his sand-caked hands on his shorts. "yeah;" he snapped, "will you tell Rapunzel here that you don't put a tower on the downhill side of a fortress?"

Bobby thrust his hands into the pockets of his shorts and studied the boys' creation.

"Looks nice though," he muttered absently.

Sam beamed smugly, ignoring Dean's petulant slap round the back of his head.

Dean rolled his eyes and pointed dismissively to the castle; "jeez you two couldn't defend yourselves against a stiff breeze in this!"

Glancing up at Bobby then back across to his brother, Sam grinned evilly. Without warning his long arm reached swiftly across and shoved Dean face-first into the castle keep.

Scrambling to his knees, Dean lunged towards Sam with a stream of muttered obscenities, knocking him over backwards into the sprawled wreckage of the castle's wall, complete with it's now-flattened keep still bearing the imprint of Dean's face.

The two rolled over, brawling and scuffling, limbs flailing and insults flying as they tussled with each other in the scattered pile of sand. Bobby shook his head with a smile and turned, "when you two have finished discussing your architectural differences, you can come and join me for a drink beside the pool."

The brothers rolled apart and lay on their backs amidst the flattened ruins of their castle, chuckling uncontrollably as Bobby walked away shaking his head.

Dean looked across at Sam, his chest heaving as he panted for breath through his laughter; green eyes sparkling brightly through a sand-caked face; "at least I won't have to dig that friggin' moat now!"

xxxxx

Rising shakily to their knees, the brothers jogged down the beach and plunged into the sea, the comparative chill of the water after an afternoon spent in the heat of the sun eliciting yelping gasps from both of them.

Paddling chest-deep into the sea, they pinched their noses, ducking under the sparkling water. They both emerged at almost exactly the same time, shaking their soaked, sand-free hair like a pair of over-excited terriers.

Relaxing in the sea for a few moments, they lazily trod the water enjoying the refreshing coolness lapping against their hot skin and talked about how great their castle was going to be tomorrow when they rebuilt it bigger and better with a drawbridge and a gatehouse and taller, stronger battlements; and no, it WAS NOT going to have a freakin' tower on the east side.

Their plans were halted when Dean's eyes suddenly widened in alarm; "crap, I forgot something!" He turned and began to frantically splash, half swimming, half paddling along the sea bed toward the beach.

"What?" Sam asked, concerned.

Dean reached the shallows and scampered up the beach toward their loungers, his soaked sunflower-print shorts clinging to his hips like a second skin as he ran; "back in a sec," he called back after himself.

Sam watched him go, confused; a confusion which morphed into a grinning eye-roll as Dean turned, clutching Danno.

"Can't go in the sea without my buddy," he yelled for the whole beach, and probably the whole resort, to hear.

Sam couldn't help but laugh as man and dolphin crashed back into the sea with the force of an Atlantic breaker.

"Happy now?" Sam grinned.

Dean looked at Danno; "are we happy now?" He made the dolphin nod, "yep, we're peachy!"

The merry trio cavorted in the sea for a little while longer, engaging in a variety of combat sports, all of which culminated in Sam getting dunked or battered insensible by Danno.

xxxxx

Sated, and more than a little light-headed by an evening beside the pool fooling around and sampling an impressive selection of endlessly imaginative cocktails with Sam and Bobby, Dean took up his usual spot on the balcony.

He closed his eyes and relished the soft whisper of the warm breeze across his surprisingly sun-bronzed face, inhaling deeply of the ocean's salt freshness and the ever-lovely fragrance of kukai blossom.

Sitting in silence, he gazed across the night sky over the gently rolling ocean, mesmerised by the flickering ripples of light which danced across the water, living reflections from the crystal-bright waning moon.

Behind him he could hear Sam and Bobby in the room talking in lowered voices; he didn't know exactly what they were saying, but he guessed they were discussing arrangements for the flight back, he heard words such as 'Dramamine' and 'airport' peppering the conversation.

Dean knew they only had three days left in paradise, and he suddenly found himself not caring about the flight back.

Nothing could scare him more than the thought of leaving this place.

xxxxx

tbc


	19. Chapter 19

"Dean?"

Concerned chocolate brown eyes watched from under a crisp red ohia blossom as Dean sat staring forlornly into the middle distance, listlessly pushing his barely-tasted lunch around his plate.

"Dean?"

He looked up vacantly, with a startled blink, almost as if he'd forgotten Leylaani was there.

"Don't you like your clams?"

Letting out a deep sigh, Dean shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and laid his fork on the side of his plate in defeat. "No, they're awesome," he replied unenthusiastically, forcing a smile for Leylaani's sake; "really good."

She put her own fork down and reached across the table taking Dean's hand in her own; "is it about tomorrow?" she asked quietly.

Dean looked down at the table and nodded silently. He couldn't bring himself to look at her; she was only another excruciating reminder of what he was going to be leaving behind when he boarded that damned sonofabitch plane tomorrow.

xxxxx

The pool glistened and sparkled in the afternoon sun, but went unnoticed by two figures sitting beside it.

Sitting in a downhearted silence, Sam and Bobby read their books as they waited for Dean to return from his lunch date at Leylaani's favourite seafood restaurant; the dancing brilliance of the clear azure water beside them, a stark contrast to the pall of doleful gloom which was firmly settled over the two men.

Sam slowly closed his book; he had finally finished the Dan Brown novel it had taken him the entire vacation to read thanks to his brother's constant distractions, but he took no satisfaction from the fact.

Today, the sun's warmth and the cool crystalline water of the pool couldn't enchant Sam, nor could the dazzling, riotous colours of the hibiscus plants. Even the joyful squeals coming from the children of a newly arrived family couldn't elicit a hint of cheer across Sam's richly tanned face.

Not today when he knew that in less than 24 hours he would be on the plane back to their ordinary, drab, dangerous lives.

It was a little over an hour when Dean and Leylaani walked back into the resort, and even though Dean had his arm protectively wrapped around the slender shoulders of the delicate figure walking alongside him, the despondent slump of the elder Winchester's shoulders was unmistakeable.

xxxxx

They had barely announced themselves to Sam and Bobby before Leylaani squirmed out from under Dean's grasp and, dropping her handbag on the floor beside Bobby's lounger, began unbuttoning her jeans.

Their mouths fell open as, before they could say or do anything, she had stripped down to a cheerful yellow bikini, and was busily tying her long black hair into a neat bun.

Trying his hardest not to look, Bobby noticed with a gulp, and a creeping blush, how the bikini was just modest enough to do an excellent job of hiding her hunter's tattoo.

Completely unfazed by the fact that all three men were staring open-mouthed at the taut bronze curves of her daintily perfect figure, she began to gently but defly unbutton Dean's shirt.

"Now, Dean, I'm not having you and your brother wasting your last day in paradise being sad and grumpy, and I'm sure your stepfather will agree with me on this, so I suggest you both get your asses in that pool to have some fun with me before I have to kick you both in."

She glanced across to Bobby for approval which he keenly gave with a vigorous nod, then turned her withering stare toward Sam who timidly put his drink down and obediently began to pull off his shirt.

Bobby's smile broadened as the tiny creature stood with her hands on her slender nutbrown hips, waiting impatiently for Dean to emerge from the mens room changed into his remaining pair of swimming shorts; sober blue to match his mood, and chuckled heartily as she herded the two bewildered Winchesters into the pool, elegantly diving in after the. God, he loved that woman.

"Ya forgot something," Bobby snorted, as he stood on the side of the pool and tossed Danno in amongst the three bobbing heads. He was rewarded by a smile from both brothers for the first time that day.

xxxxx

Having spent the evening engaging in the unpleasant task of packing their bags, the three men sat on their balcony staring out over the moonlit ocean. There was a distinct rumble in the crashing surf tonight; even that seemed disturbed and melancholy to perfectly match the Winchesters' mood.

"I'm turnin' in," Bobby eventually announced, bending into a cautious stretch.

"Okay," Sam looked across at Dean who hadn't even acknowledged Bobby's comment.

"I think we're gonna stay out a bit longer," he added.

Bobby nodded goodnight, then left the brothers to their thoughts.

They sat in silence for another hour, lulled into peace by the unusually stiff breeze which continued to stir and simmer the inky black ocean, until eventually Sam stood and arched into a long stretch. "I'm hittin' the sack bro', you coming?" he mumbled around a wide yawn.

Dean shook his head.

"Stayin' out here," he stated flatly without looking away from the horizon.

Sam blinked; "all night?"

Dean gave a tight-lipped nod; "never gonna see it again, don't wanna waste what time I've got left sleepin'."

Opening his mouth to argue, Sam thought better of it. At least Dean would be tired for the flight back even before he started popping the sleeping pills; in fact it might be a blessing in disguise.

Sam stood and gazed out at the beautiful vista; actually, it wasn't a bad idea.

He pulled out his chair and sat down once again.

Dean turned and a ghost of a smile crossed his face.

xxxxx

Bobby's eyes opened to another morning of sparkling crystal-bright sunlight. He blinked, focussing his sleep-muzzed vision to see both the other beds in the room empty, and undisturbed.

Sitting up cautiously, he peered though the doors onto the balcony to see two sleeping bodies leaning heavily into each other; both slumped over the balcony rails.

He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

Xxxxx

Using the excuse that he was going to get some water for the trip back, Bobby strode across the terrace alone.

He headed straight for the bar and to the person he hoped he would find there.

"Hey Leylaani;" he beamed warmly when he saw the familiarly delicate figure, complete with pale pink rose neatly tucking her jet black hair behind her left ear.

She turned and her face lit up with delight.

"Bobby!"

Scampering round the end of the bar, she pulled the older man into a deeply loving filial hug.

"Are you all packed?" she asked, finally releasing Bobby from her bear hug.

Bobby nodded, "uh yeah;" he replied, "the boys are jus' showering and packing their last things then they'll be down to say their goodbyes, I just wanted to get down here and have a proper chance to say my farewells and thank ya for - well, you know."

Leylaani smiled; "it's my job Bobby."

"Well, ya damned good at it." he replied; "jus' stay safe, okay?"

She gave a thoughtful nod. "You too Bobby," adding; "I'll take care of myself; I know enough tricks to keep myself safe and dangerous."

A brief silence fell between them.

"Although there is one trick I won't be able to pull any more."

Bobby cocked his head, asking the question silently.

She glanced at the small bandage on her hand; "I won't be killing any more succubi …" she muttered with a tiny shrug and a sheepish grin like the kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

A faint blush reddened her cheeks as she watched the wheels turn in Bobby's head.

"Son of a b…" he spluttered as the penny dropped; "I'll kick his ass into next week, that boy's got no friggin' shame …"

Leylaani shook her head kindly; "don't worry Bobby, Dean did nothing wrong. I said I would give myself heart and soul to the love of my life when I found him," she hesitated, looking at her feet. "I didn't say I would be able to stay with him."

It was at that moment that Bobby's heart broke into a thousand pieces.

xxxxx

tbc


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As someone far more famous than me once said; "this is it". Thank you all for taking the journey with me.

Leylaani stood in the doorway to the reception and waved as the Winchester brothers walked toward her; forced smiles playing on their glum faces.

She reached up into a deep hug with Sam, as Dean deliberately held back, standing quietly against the wall looking at his feet.

"Have a safe trip, Sam," she murmured into his chest, as he stroked the top of her head, "take care of yourself."

"It's been great to know you," Sam whispered, bending deeply to kiss the beautiful young woman who was barely holding it together.

He stepped back, releasing her from his hug and looked at the marble space all around him, "heck, I'm gonna miss this place." He smiled shakily.

Turning to Dean, he gently squeezed Leylaani's arm as he stepped away. "I'm gonna go and help Bobby bring the bags down; see you out by the bus when you're ready, dude."

He patted Dean's shoulder as he walked away, directing a last warm smile at Leylaani.

xxxxx

Dean and Leylaani stood in silence, looking at each other for the longest time.

"Well, this is it," she sighed with a soft shrug.

"Yep, this is it," Dean replied hesitantly.

They both smiled weakly at each other.

"Are you all packed up ready?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, "all packed up, ready to go an' get on that damn friggin' plane - as if this day wasn't crap enough already."

He sighed, looking through the reception doors out into the parking lot, its gaily coloured floral displays and palm fringed entrance offering no comfort to him today.

"Bus leaves for the airport in ten minutes," he muttered quietly to no-one in particular.

There was another awkward silence as the two gazed at each other once again.

"Oh God," Dean was the first to break, reaching out to take Leylaani in his arms, and pulling her close into his chest. "Shit; I always thought a holiday romance would be fun!"

He could feel a warm dampness seeping into his shirt

"I can't believe we're going, I've been tryin' so hard not to think about this moment;" he muttered between clenched teeth.

The head buried into his chest nodded silently.

"I'm gonna miss this place so much;" Dean sighed, "I'll miss the sea and the beach, and the cocktails and, hell, I'll miss that friggin' balcony."

He pressed his face against the top of her head, inhaling the fragrance of the pink rose tucked behind her ear.

"An' I'll miss you more than everything else put together," he whispered.

xxxxx

The two stood for as long as they could melded into one being, holding each other without saying a word.

Eventually they reluctantly pulled apart. Leylaani wiped her eyes, reaching up as she did to pluck the rosebud from behind her ear.

She handed it to Dean between shaking fingertips; "something to remember me by," she whispered.

Dean took the bud with a smile, and inhaled deeply of it's sweet, intoxicating perfume; the fragrant scent of Hawaii, the scent of Leylaani.

He tucked it into his shirt pocket close to his heart and pulled her into a long kiss.

"I'll keep in touch," promised Leylaani; "so will I," Dean replied.

And this time he meant it.

xxxxx

She stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself in a futile attempt to console herself as the family of three stepped slowly onto the bus to the airport and back to their everyday lives.

Dean managed an unconvincing smile in her direction.

She flinched. His pain was palpable; almost physical.

As the bus disappeared from view, she let out a long sigh and stood feeling utterly empty, composing herself for a few moments before walking slowly back to the bar and her work.

Not for much longer, she told herself, wiping her eyes; the hunt was beckoning once again. One day Dean would know she was a hunter. One day they might even be able to hunt together.

She would cling to that hope until it came true or until the day came that she couldn't hope any more.

Lost in her thoughts, she rounded the end of the bar, and stopped in her tracks, choking out a sudden squeak of tearful laughter.

There in all his bug-eyed glory, sitting on the top of the counter, was Danno.

She was briefly interrupted as her mobile phone beeped a text.

Something to remember me by x

xxxxx

Eagle Air flight number EA14 had been in the air around two hours when Bobby put his book down with a sigh. He had been scanning the words across the pages, but they just weren't sinking in.

Rubbing his eyes, he glanced across the seats beside him, seeing that both brothers were asleep.

Surrounded by a comforting cocoon made up of his brother and his 'stepfather', Dean sat slumped in his seat, head lolling limply against the headrest, anaesthetised by a potent combination of Sominex, Dramamine and heartbreak.

Bobby reflected that at least Dean had been much calmer on the flight this time, the sick bag he cradled in the crook of his arm since boarding the plane remaining thankfully unused. He guessed that crushing sorrow must be good for something; even if it's just for distracting someone from a gut-wrenching fear of flying.

He noticed Sam, leaning unconsciously into his brother's shoulder, snoring softly against the rumpled sleeve of Dean's jacket.

Soft smiles played over both brothers' sleeping faces.

Bobby picked his book up again, happy to spend the remainder of the flight alone. He wasn't going to wake them; let them sleep and dream their dreams of Mau Loa.

Let them spend a last few hours in paradise.

xxxxx

end


End file.
